Fallout New Vegas: The White Hand of Robert House
by Edward Anthony Ferris
Summary: "The House Always Wins." Post-House Ending. The Courier helps Mr. House build his post-war empire in the Mojave, though the Legion and the NCR both seek to rebuild after Hoover Dam. House tries to remain neutral, though a new faction arises, one that could shatter the fragile balance of relative peace in the wasteland.
1. Maiden Voyage

_Maiden Voyage_

_The Lucky 38 Casino, Penthouse Floor._

_6:30 AM, March 19, 2284_

_Johhny Cash._

"Have all the proper arrangements been made?"

I sighed, tapping the screen of my Pip-Boy, flipping through images of statistics and rows of numbers. I stopped at the icon of a ship, a battered yacht from the Old World. Another series of numbers arose in a panel beneath.

_Cruise Yacht "_St. Eleanor"  
_Length: 216 feet (Bow-Stern) 237 feet (Stick)_  
_Weight: 17 tons. (Non-Metric)_  
_Displacement: 1200 tons._

_Operation ID No: REH-664901123874_

_House Industries Blueprint Code:  
7660192984757391047563820190284645782910572  
7563724639241202139560231758621036213509756  
0295721038472103978566521-03497238476b39286t_

_Status: Active._

_Location: Hoover Dam (South Port)_

I eyed to codes, scanning for abnormalities. All seemed to be in order, with the ship at least.

"Yes, the St. Eleanor is in working order and ready for her maiden Voyage."

The man in front of me, garbed in a tuxedo of the finest make, lowered his head of grey-black hair, turning his back to me and staring out the windows that encircled the penthouse. I studied him for a moment, taking in what I knew of Robert Edwin House.

He was born some two-hundred sixty five years ago in the Old World, to a wealthy family in Nevada. He'd been cheated of his inheritance by his half brother, Anthony, thus forcing Edwin on a campaign to overcome what he had lost, and achieve even greater wealth and power than he would have obtained had he rightfully owned the H&H Tool Company. By the year 2077, the year of the Great War, House was the CEO of Robco Industries, Owner of the Lucky 38 Casino, and of several smaller companies, H&H Tools among them. After a tip by the military that most countries were gearing for nuclear war in 2065, House began defensive maneuvers. He sent secret satellites into orbit to intercept missiles directed towards Las Vegas, and laser defense systems aboard the Lucky 38. In addition, he created a vast army of some two thousand Securitron robots, and stored them in a massive vault in Cottonwood Cove. The war began, lasting only a few hours, and all but a small, faint echo of Vegas, and the world, remained. For two hundred years he waited, his body preserved in an antimicrobial chamber. When he awakened, he quickly took control of the remnants of Vegas, restoring what casinos remained, and organizing the three largest tribes into the Three Families, who were placed in charge of the Strip. After signing a deal with the New California Republic, he prevented the Strip from being annexed, in return for helping the NCR repair the great Hoover Dam, which became the focal point of civilization.

Then, I met him. I was hunting Benny, who shot me in the head and left me to die. I entered the Strip with one mission: To kill that two faced bastard. House offered, or instructed, me to meet with him in the Lucky 38, where no man had stepped foot in two hundred years. Since then, I'd worked for him, remaining neutral of the NCR and the Legion, both of whom considered me an icon. I'd done much under House's banner, including rallying half a dozen tribes to his cause: The preservation of humanity, and the reformation of society. I, under House's watchful eye, had taken Big MT for myself, using the isolation of the mountain-crater for my own purposes. I had robbed the Sierra Madre Casino, using the funds to further House's operations. I saved Zion from the White Legs, earning their debt to House. It was me who killed Ulysses, preventing a second nuclear war. And lastly, using the knowledge of the Think Tank, I had found a way to restore House's body with his brain, something he had been very thankful for.

Since the Second Battle for Hoover Dam, I'd been mostly dormant, playing the role of figurehead for the White Hand of Robert House. His army, or armies, followed my direction, cleaning the Mojave's wasteland. In what little spare time I had, I returned to Big MT, where I oversaw the reconstruction of the chaotic area. In the past three years, we'd made much progress. We'd added a casino for the lower class, the Silver Star, rebuilt Freeside to at least habitable conditions, and protected most small towns and exterior settlements with Securitrons, along with our allies.

The Mojave was becoming a less chaotic place every day, all thanks to the man in front of me.

"Good," he said, shaking me from my thoughts and returning me to the task at hand, "The _St. Eleanor_ will prove to be a turning point in modern society. People will come from both the NCR and the Legion, and the lands far east, to take part in my luxury cruise down the Colorado River."

I raised my eyebrows, shaking my head. House must've sensed my doubt.

"You think otherwise?"

I sighed, choosing my words, "I know you enough to know that there is no chance in Hell that you're going through all this just for a cruise line."

House turned to face me, the age lines ever present on his new face. For a moment, I wondered why he hadn't chosen a young body, though remembered his idea of "appearing as wise as I really am".

"No, of course I'm not. To spend thousands of caps on a simple cruise would be folly at this point in our campaign. Have you not deduced my true intentions, Mr. Cash?"

I thought for a moment, analyzing all the data. "Well," I began, "I would imagine that a cruise under the banner of the White Hand of Robert House sailing freely with impunity down the Colorado River, would state that you were allowed to do just that. Neither the Legion nor the NCR could tell you otherwise. Essentially, that would be your way of claiming that you own the entire river."

House nodded curtly, his face stern as always. "Correct. The Colorado River will be a massive trade route, soon as the Legion and the NCR can find funding for ships. If mine is first, then they will have no choices other than to sink my vessel, which they won't likely do for fear of my retaliation, or ask my permission to sail the river. I, of course, will allow them to do just that, for a fee. I will tax their trade, and make a fortune doing it. In addition to regulating trade, I will have you and your men at Big Mountain research a robotic ship that can patrol the waters for any...disturbances. This money from taxes I will use towards the defense of the Mojave, which as you know, is the land directly between both factions. Owning the desert, and the river, will make me as much their equal as any."

I stared at him for a moment, marveling in his brilliance before nodding. "Understood. As I said, the ship is ready. What else would you have me do?"

House turned back to the giant monitor that previously served as his "eyes" in the penthouse, now displaying a hundred different feeds from the faces of the Securitrons. He tapped a handheld tablet, and one of the panels went full screen. The image was of Hoover Dam, the perspective taken from far below the wall, down by the river. The Securitron turned, panning across a large building, a dock, and the cruise yacht. Two other robots were visible patrolling its deck.

"While my Securitrons are elite, even they cannot defend against an attack from the Legion, or the NCR, on their own."

"You said nobody would attack the ship."

"I said that it wasn't likely. However, both the NCR and the Legion are furious that I played them as fools and took control over the Mojave. They will seek to strike back at the soonest opportunity. An opportunity," he pointed at the image of the ship, "Such as twenty rich gamblers aboard an expensive ship, far from my jurisdiction. This will place these men, all NCR citizens, at the mercy of their government, the Legion, and any other band of raiders."

"And you want me to defend the ship? I'm one man."

House nodded slowly. "You're one very talented man. However, you are correct. Now," he held up a hand, bringing another image up on the massive monitor. The image flickered to a group of NCR Elite Rangers, garbed in their black attire. "The NCR has changed as well, making it nearly impossible to become one of these, a 'Black Ranger'. This benefits me, as men of such talent will have little action in such a time of peace. I have contacted the NCR, and informed them that in exchange for their assistance in protecting one of my investments, I will allow them to trade on my river, as the Legion can, though the amount they are taxed per ship will be half of what the Legion is. Considering the amount of trade they will be doing via the Colorado, this will be an invaluable chance they will not miss. Now," he pointed back at the monitor, "Where these Black Rangers come into play, is that they will be hired to protect the ship. A small team, maybe five, will accompany our maiden voyage, ensuring that while you and your team find a suitable attack ship to defend the _St. Eleanor_, the passengers will not be harmed."

I sighed again, weary of talk so early in the morning. "Why wouldn't you just put five Securitrons aboard the ship? That leaves plenty of room for passengers and crew, and allows for you to guarantee their safety."

House remained expressionless, no doubt preparing for this question. "Five Securitrons, with their new upgrades, could engage enemy forces on land or in the air with ease, so long as their numbers didn't exceed thirty units. However, the ship's passengers would feel more at home if they knew several Rangers from their homeland were guarding them, and not robots loyal only to myself. And besides comfort, my Securitrons are not yet waterproofed, though the improvements are being made as we speak. One heavy wind and they could be tossed overboard. They are not suited for naval warfare just yet."

I picked at a piece of fraying fabric on my tie, absentmindedly depositing the string in my suit jacket pocket. "And you want me along to keep the Rangers from stealing your ship?"

"In part, yes. Though I also need good faith with the NCR after our conflict at Hoover Dam. They've reluctantly agreed to this mission, only because you will be there. My guess is they will try to sway you to their flag. So, they've sent Craig Boone to lead the defense. I know he is your friend, however, your duties lie with-"

"Not you, House. My duties lie with humanity. You're their best hope, so I'll do whatever is required to make sure that you survive, and prosper. End of story."

House made no indication he'd even heard me. "Yes, as you say. You have your orders, Cash. Carry them out as admirably as I know you will."

I nodded, avoiding his eyes.

As I made to leave, my hand pressed against the scanner that operated the lift.

"Cash," House said from behind me, "Do remember that you are my direct representative, and you're among the most prominent men in the NCR, outside of their military. Try to avoid dressing in your standard Stealth Armor, and perhaps carry a suit and tie with you. Carry on."

"Fuck you," I muttered, stepping into the lift.

...

_Caesar's Palace, Throne Room, Texas._

_9:15 AM, March 20__,__  
_

_Pius, Frumentarii_

"House has a luxury ship on the Colorado?"

I nodded, doing all in my power to hide my fear. "He has it ready to make her maiden voyage in two days, your liege."

Caesar growled, his knuckles rapping on his polished wood throne. He took a moment, staring around the palace, which was, according to record, a former city hall of some form. "You, as a Frumentarii, are tasked with preventing something like this. House might as well have just slapped me in the face, and told me that the fucking river was his. Does the NCR know of this?"

"Yes, milord," I felt sweat beading on my neck, "When I attempted to investigate further, I ran headlong into Vulpes Inculta. He and I then discovered that a small team of five Elite Rangers are aboard the ship as well."

Caesar rose from his seat, crossing the ten feet between us in two strides, torchlight gleaming off his bald crown. He flexed his hand around his displacer glove. "They're working together?" he spat, his voice echoing off the stone chamber.

"It would appear so, your majesty. Though the Rangers are taking orders from House, which we've deduced means they are merely contracted as protection. Were they a team, House and the NCR, there would be more troops."

The mighty Caesar whirled around, seizing me by the throat. "Oh, you've deduced that, have you? Well, then they are beginning a healthy working relationship, one I cannot allow," he turned away from my face, still holding my throat, and spoke to a Praetorian standing beside him, "Inform one of the Decanus, Severus in fact, that he is to sink this damned vessel at whatever the cost," he turned back to me, "We will atone for your failure, Pius."

I knew what awaited me: Crucifixion. "My lord, I have always ever served you-"

Caesar slapped me across the face, causing my vision to flicker.

"YOU FAILED ME!" he roared.

I felt strong hands seize my arms, dragging me upright. Caesar stood in front of me, his face cold, emotionless. In his right hand, he had replaced his displacer glove with a simple combat knife. "You should have seen this coming, Pius of the Sixteen Blades tribe. One might even say you saw this happening, and chose to do nothing. In Rome, the punishment for that is severe."

He grabbed my chin again, while a strong hand yanked my head back, exposing my throat. "You will pay for your lack of vision, Frumentarii."

I felt the blade slowly pierce the edge of my eye, and begin cutting around my eye socket. _He's cutting my eyes out..._

I screamed until my voice broke, and I could only manage a strangled gurgle. Yet the Caesar did not stop. No, he finished my right eye, and moved onto my left.

Though I could not be angry at my master, as I had failed him, and I would pay the price I deserved.

...

_Aboard the St. Eleanor, Colorado River, Hoover Dam_

_8:12 AM, March 23, 2284._

_Johnny Cash._

I descended the rocky slope cautiously, my All American rifle clasped firmly in my hands. I could see the Rangers walking among the twenty or so NCR folk who paid large sums of caps to go on this "relaxing" cruise. Through my helmet, I could easily make out which Ranger was Boone: The only one with a sniper rifle. I relaxed a bit, knowing that he'd be on board with me. Of all the companions I'd had in my time in the Mojave, I trusted Craig Boone the most.

As I made my way to the ship, I reflected on Boone's past. After a long tour in the NCR's elite sniper division, First Recon, his wife and unborn child had been taken by Legion slavers from Novac. He'd mercy killed her to prevent her being tortured, and the thought had destroyed him for a long time. He'd also been one of the snipers who had been ordered to massacre hundreds of women and children during the battle of Bitter Springs, between the NCR and the Great Khans. I'd been the one who had helped him get over his role in those many deaths, and the deaths of his family. Since, we'd been as brothers, separated only by our duties.

The Rangers were stiff and alert as I made my way onto the ship, removing my helmet so they could see it was truly John M. Cash, and not some imposter. Boone removed his own helmet, a grin cracking his ever serious visage. He extended a gloved hand.

"Johnny Cash, it's good to see you."

I shook his hand, grinning in return. "I wish it were under better circumstances, but yes," I eyed his uniform skeptically. He shrugged.

"After we almost killed Caesar at his Fort, they wanted me to become one of their Elite Black Rangers. I couldn't miss the chance, not while the Legion was still strong."

I nodded to the ship, and the pair of us left the awed onlookers in our wake, catching up on each other's past three years.

...

Two hours later, the _St. Eleanor_ was making her way down the Colorado River. The passengers had been shown to their rooms, and were now mostly listening to a man known only as the "Lonesome Drifter" play the guitar and sing a love song. Any others were playing at one of the card tables, or else simply enjoying the view of the water.

I was sitting across from Boone, a shot of brandy in the bottom of my glass. He was likewise drinking, laughing at my recollection of our adventure to parlay with the Boomers, a tribe located at Nellis Air Force Base that prides itself on its demolitions abilities. There were three other Rangers seated with us, listening intently while the other two were on watch.

"So," I finished wiping a tear from my eye, "Craig grabs my arm as these mortar shells are landing all around us, and," I slapped the nearest Ranger on the arm, "You know his serious face," I imitated Boone in a comical manner, getting a laugh from the entire table, "And he says, 'Cash, I got shrapnel in my ass."

Each of us, Boone aside, threw our heads back and roared with laughter so loud that the gamblers cast annoyed looks in my direction. I sighed, chuckling, and finished my glass.

"Yeah," Boone said, his face resisting a grin, "Then we had to do all their bitch work to gain their favor, only to have them turn their guns on the NCR at Hoover Dam."

The other Rangers fell silent.

I held up a hand. "That's not true, and you know it. The only NCR soldiers killed by House or I were the two guards outside of the control room, and Securitrons got them. Our guns were on the Legion."

"But your allies took great pride in fighting both of us."

I shrugged. "How many of our allies did the NCR kill? Come on, Boone. Nobody's innocent in war."

He grunted, but I saw him relax dramatically. I ordered another round, just beer this time, for the table. "I'm buying, as a token of good will between House and the NCR," I held up my beer, which they mimicked, "To the good men of the New California Republic."

"To the NCR,"

I made eye contact with Boone, and the pair of us left the table shortly after. Leaning on the railing of the ship's stern, I stared out at the water.

"Don't try to get me to join the NCR, Craig, you know I won't."

"I wouldn't ask you," he replied, sighing and leaning on the rail beside me, "You made it clear that you're with House, kid. And that's better than being with the Legion. At least House is friendly with us."

I nodded, glad that he understood.

"So, you think this trade idea of House's will work out?"

He shrugged. "If House doesn't stab us in the back, sure. But at the same time, we'd be fighting Legion ships all the same. But House doesn't care if we and the Legion have to share a river, so long as he taxes both sides."

I shrugged as well, knowing he was right. "That's true. But at the same time, he's got...ideas, that will prevent either side from fighting each other. He's going to be the only one with guns on the Colorado."

Boone shot me a look. "The NCR will never disarm to trade with House. Especially not with Legion troops on the water."

"The river belongs to House, Boone, there's no denying that," Craig grunted again, but didn't argue, "And if I know him, which I do, then if he knows that you attacked the Legion, or vice versa, on his river, then he will deal with that accordingly. By next month, he'll have enough armed personnel on this river to occupy Paris."

"Come on, Johnny. Even the NCR would be hard pressed to control the entire river, it's massive. Thousands of miles long."

"House only wants the small stretch that borders Nevada. That's maybe two hundred miles of river, but at either end, it'll be marked so both factions will know when they're in his waters. This prevents another setup like Caesar had at his Fort. Nobody can invade the Mojave unless he wants them to."

Boone remained silent for a moment, then said, "I suppose that wouldn't be too bad."

"The Legion can do with what they want north of the border, just as the NCR can do whatever they want south of it. Two hundred miles of river... granted, that's the most key stretch, as anyone actually wanting to _go anywhere_ on the river will have to pass through his area, but that's why he wants it. He'll make a fortune."

Boone snorted. "And if he lets Legion into our waters, through his, then that's an act of war."

I held up a single finger, "And likewise, no? So, he's decided that any ship entering his waters will be unarmed, like I said. Even if they _wanted_ to attack the other faction, House will have forced them to remove their weapons, so neither side could attack the other, at least not through his waterway."

Boone sighed, wiping his eyes. "Alright, fine. It's not a bad idea. But I've got to sleep. I've been up for days. I'll catch you in the morning, Cash."

He clapped me on the shoulder, and made his way down to the crews' quarters.

I waited for him to leave, and then brought my Pip-Boy up to eye level. As if on cue, an image of House sitting at his desk came onto the screen.

"Well?" He asked, raising one eyebrow.

"The NCR listens very closely to what Boone says. If we can convince the NCR brass like I've done him, then this deal will go down without any bloodshed. Our only issue is the Legion. They'll oppose us the entire way."

"Then they'll be crushed." He replied simply, "Get some rest, Cash. Then enjoy your cruise. I shall send a Securitron to the Legion explaining this treaty, though it is likely you will have to deal with them in person."

"I understand, Cash out."

I lowered the Pip-Boy, and sighed, staring out over the water.

"Shit in the Mojave is about to get real."


	2. Caesar's Mistakes

_Caesar's Mistakes_

_Aboard the St. Eleanor, Colorado River._

_Johnny Cash._

_12:33 pm, March 22, 2284._

The sun was high in the sky, beating down on the cruise ship without mercy.

The temperature according to my Pip-Boy was one hundred and three, slightly above average. We'd been sailing south all day and night, pausing only once for the crew to refuel the engine. So far, the trip was uneventful. After my talk with Boone, I'd spent most of the first day napping on and off, gambling at the card tables, and cleaning the weapons I'd brought with me. I now sat on my bed, sighing to myself. _Nine more days aboard this damn ship. And in this heat, it's suicide._ I thought of how the NCR citizens, all business owners and merchants, would need to paint a pretty picture to their superiors about the greatness of the _St. Eleanor_, else the NCR would never agree to House's plan, no matter the intelligence of his decision. Only the knowledge that people still wanted the Strip, and House's cruise ship, would prevent the NCR from destroying both. Try as they may, they could never take either by political means, so outright war was the only way. However, if all of their Rangers returned unharmed, and pleased by the voyage, good faith would be reestablished between House and the NCR.

It was up to me to make sure that the passengers loved every second of this harebrained plan, along with ensuring that the Rangers didn't kill me in my sleep and take over the ship for themselves.

I peered over the edge, down into the clear, cold water. An idea formed, though it wasn't safe, not yet.

"Captain," I called to the leading crew member, who cast me a glance of acknowledgement, "Does this ship have life form scanners?"

"Yeah," he replied, flipping a switch on the control board beside the helm, "Anything living bigger than a radroach comes within five hundred yards of us, we'll know."

I nodded. "What do the scanners show now?"

He shot them a hard look. "Nothing, just us."

"Good, tell the passengers it's safe to jump off and swim here."

His eyebrows rose so far they nearly disappeared. "If we're being followed, we'd be easy targets, sir."

"Do it."

He sighed, and then nodded, talking over the PA system.

…

The water was cool and refreshing, and best of all was that it wasn't crawling with lakelurks. None of the Rangers abandoned their duties to swim, though the eagerness to do just that was visible by their movements, even if only to me. They, like me, were busy scanning the high canyon walls, preparing for an attack of some sort. As far as I could tell (which was probably a pretty accurate guess), the Elite Rangers did not think that any good would come of House's plans. Whenever I mentioned his idea, as per my orders, they'd simply nod, or murmur vague agreement. I suspected that the only reason I wasn't floating face-down in the river was because I saved President Kimball, and because of my friendship with Boone. Past services to the NCR, it appeared, was the only reason any of this would ever work. The main problem was, in the course of my duties, I'd become a champion of the Legion as well, fighting in their famed Arena enough times that the glory of Johnny Cash was told in every Legion camp. Before the Battle of Hoover Dam, I had noticed that Caesar was showing signs of a brain tumor, one that could very easily result in dementia. Out of pity that anyone should lose their minds, I performed a surgery on him to save his life. Since, I'd been hailed as a hero, though nobody other than Caesar himself knew why.

"Cash!" Boone barked, interrupting my thoughts.

I instinctively snapped my left hand down to where my Plasma Defender pistol was holstered at my thigh. Boone didn't elaborate, instead training his Hunting Rifle on a section of canyon wall that sloped downward dramatically before leveling out on a plateau only a hundred yards above the water. A perfect ambush point.

I drew both my Defender and A Light Shining in Darkness, the forty-five semi-auto that Joshua Graham had given me, loosing rounds at the cliff's edge. The very edge where twenty Legionnaires had taken up position, preparing to hurl javelins down into the mass of rich folk swimming in peace.

"Everyone on board!" I shouted, watching in satisfaction as a bolt of green plasma reduced an entire man into a puddle of steaming goo.

The bankers, business owners, merchants, and artisans paddled frantically to the edge of the ship, scaling the ladder one by one. Javelins missed them by mere inches, floating harmlessly on the surface. I slammed my helmet down over my head for both protection and increased accuracy, the digital Heads Up Display showing my ammo count, physical condition, a compass, and radio comm between my helmet and those of the Rangers, which we synced the previous night. I fired a three round burst from my forty-five, clipping a soldier in the throat, and the other two landing soundly in another's chest. A dry _click!_ sounded from A Light Shining in Darkness, and I holstered it immediately, gripping my Defender with two hands. After dropping two more Legionaries, I discarded the weapon, pulling my All American assault rifle from my back, and dropping into a tactical crouch. I felled another three of Caesar's men, the last of the ambush party. I spun on the spot, scanning the area for more enemies, while two Rangers escorted the passengers down below deck to their quarters.

_That was too easy…_

"Legionnaires ahead on the river!" One of the Rangers shouted, taking up position at the bow of the ship.

Boone made his way up by the helm, collapsing into a prone position, taking careful shots on the oncoming canoes. For a brief moment, I wondered _why_ the Legion was in canoes, but let the thought pass once bullets started flying past my head. I slapped in a fresh magazine, and tactically fired three round bursts at each of the three oncoming ships. Every few seconds, the thunderous bark of Boone's three-oh-eight would echo off the canyon walls, followed by one or two Legion falling from their boats. I didn't try to keep pace with him, nobody could, instead I just pulled the trigger until all three of my weapons were dry. Only one ship had made it within ten feet of the _St. Eleanor_, whereas the passengers dove headfirst out of their canoe, and swam underwater towards the ship, deep enough to where our bullets couldn't strike them.

"We're going to be boarded!" I bellowed through my helmet, dropping the All American and drawing my Katana from my back.

In the split second of silence, I reloaded A Light Shining in Darkness, and my Plasma Defender. A minute slipped by….then two…then three…

A scream broke the silence, followed by the muffled thump of a body hitting the deck. I whirled around just in time to deflect a machete that was hell-bent on wedging itself in my face. The makeshift blade clattered across the polished wood deck, the clamor louder than normal in the echoing canyon. Two Legionnaires charged me, swinging accurately at my head and torso with practiced movements, each gladius shining brilliantly in the sunlight. They were trained well, though I outclassed them, and before long both lay dead at my feet, blood pooling around their lifeless forms. Behind me, I head more commotion, and spun on the spot to see ten men in crimson dueling the Rangers hand to hand. Despite being greatly outnumbered, the NCR Elite held their own, displaying a fine demonstration of martial arts. I darted behind the main group of Legion, cutting down four before the others could react. Dropping my sword, I drew my forty-five and gunned two more down while the NCR cleaned up the rest with their own sidearms.

Splattered with blood and gunpowder residue, I holstered my pistols and checked that the Rangers were alright. One of them, Jensen, had taken a javelin to the shoulder, though he insisted it was a mere flesh wound and that he'd be fine. Boone descended from his sniper's post, clutching a bleeding slash on his right forearm. Apparently the Decanus Severus had tried to put him out personally, though I could see the black boots of the Legion captain from where I stood, blood streaming down the ladder. After ensuring Boone was safe, the Rangers began clearing the deck of blood and bodies, while tossing the Legion weapons overboard. I made my way down below, to assure the passengers that all was well. When I opened the hatch, and scaled down the steps, I was almost ambushed by those below, each demanding answers. I removed my helmet, and held up a gloved hand.

"Quiet, and I'll explain everything."

Once they'd settled down, I told them what had transpired, painting the event to be a freak accident, and _not_ something that House had foreseen. "And so you see, it was for reasons like this we had the Rangers with us to begin with. The Wasteland is a dangerous place, anything can happen."

A fat banker with a handlebar mustache scoffed, "You make it out like this was an accident. The Legion doesn't attack by _accident_."

I sighed, wishing I could just shoot him and be done with it. "Mr. House had no idea that there was Legion in the area, and neither did the Rangers. That means that, if by their combined knowledge, they hadn't spotted them, that the Legion must've just been patrolling the river by chance, and happened to stumble across us. Please, go back to your drinks and our comedian will be up on the main deck to entertain you in ten minutes. You paid a lot for this cruise, now enjoy it."

I noticed a visible cut in the tension, knowing that the passengers were at least a little bit reassured, for the moment. I led them back up to the top deck, where the Elite Rangers had cleared all evidence of the skirmish, and were now back at their previous positions as if fifty Legion had not just tried to sink us. I left the main group, heading for the stern. Once I was there, I tapped my Pip-Boy and waited for House to respond. He did, his serious face appearing on the monitor.

"I'm terribly busy, Cash. What is it?"

I scowled at his irritable nature. "Roughly fifty Legionnaires just attacked the _St. Eleanor_. No casualties, but the passengers are shaken and doubtful."

House frowned. "They should not be in the area. I sent Securitrons to investigate that entire cruise path for a month solid before setting sail."

I snorted, wishing that I could slap him in the face. "Well, they failed. One of the Rangers was injured, almost killed. Your plan has a massive hole in it, House: Nobody but you can carry weapons _on_ the river, but you have no way of preventing them from ambushing us from _above_ the river."

I was sure that, had he not wished to offend me, he would have laughed right in my face. "You think I would overlook such an elementary point? No, I will place several sensors every fifty feet along that canyon wall, on both sides. If anyone so much as sneezes within a thousand yards of a sensor, I'll know about it, and the Enclave will be able to deal with it accordingly."

I stared at him. "The Enclave? I thought you were using a naval force."

"I _will_ have a naval force, though the need for it to be so large is not there. Why build more ships, when I can simply arm the one I already have to make it a sort of luxury warship? The guns would be hidden and the ship shielded, creating a perfect defense, especially if there is an Enclave Vertibird ready to respond at any moment, anywhere on the river."

I shook my head. "You'd need at least ten Vertibirds, and you have two."

"I have," he smiled, "A plan. Much of it will be on you, though you won't be alone. I happen to know where eight Vertibirds have been restored, and are waiting for the taking. But that is for another time. For now, finish the voyage, and return here to the Lucky Thirty-Eight. Your next assignment will not be one you enjoy, I'm sure."

"Great," I spat, "I'll see you when I'm done here."

House nodded, and vanished off my Pip-Boy.

I sighed again, and made for my room, intent on cleaning my weapons and getting some rest.

…

…

_Caesar's Palace, War Room, Texas_

_9:13 pm, March 22, 2284_

_Caesar._

I slammed my fist down on the lacquered wood table, scattering maps and markers. "The entire force is gone?" I hissed, barely restraining my fury.

My second in command, Legate Lanius, nodded gravely. "Our scouts just reported back to us that Severus is dead, killed by Craig Boone, and that John Cash is aboard House's ship."

I stopped in my tracks, for I had resumed pacing. _Johnny Cash, the only man in history to strike fear into the hearts of the Legion._ I nodded slowly, letting out my pent up breath. _And the man who saved my life._

"He fought alongside the NCR?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"He killed many Legionnaires, sir."

I nodded again, forcing confidence into my voice. "Well," I clapped my hands together, "If history's anything to go by, House will send a Securitron our way to explain all this, and we'll handle it then."

Lanius gawked at me, recovering quickly, "Milord, we're to allow him to slay our men?"

I fixed him with a glare. "He was merely defending his own. If the NCR are aboard the same vessel as Cash, then I can rest assured House isn't working alongside them. Cash would never consent to being a pawn of the NCR. Spread the word that the ship is not to be attacked, unless it attacks us, which it cannot. Severus is dead, which is good. His failure would have landed him on a cross anyways. Go," I pointed at the door, "And leave my sight."

Lanius did not move, a death wish for anyone else. "You better have a good reason for ignoring that order, Legate."

Lanius dipped his head, a sign of respect. "Caesar, one of our Centurions has reported that prison camp has been destroyed, and its slaves set free. Upon the Centurion's inspection, he discovered this."

Lanius tossed a dagger upon the table.

I stared at it, analyzing its etchings. Across the blade, were words written in Latin that read: Rebirth by fire.

I knew that the flash of horror that went through my mind also crossed my face. I knew that line…I'd written it myself on this very blade, and tossed it over the edge of the Grand Canyon with-

No, don't even think it. He's dead.

"Must be NCR, Legate."

"Sir," Lanius's voice was gentle. He knew. "I was present when this blade was made. If it really is him, we could be facing a serious problem."

"Then see to it that it does not become one!" I spat, slapping the dagger off the table.

Lanius was clearly not pleased with my response, which was far from the tactical decisions I was known for making. Though he made no response, I could tell what he thought: fear was overriding my common sense. And perhaps it was, though as Caesar of the Legion, I could not even humor the idea that something scared me. Though, now two men had earned that ability.

This was something I could not allow.

…

…

_Somewhere in Arizona, Outside Legion Camp Redwater._

_5:22 am, March 23, 2284_

I am Joshua Graham.

I was once the finest Legate that Caesar's Legion had ever seen. I gave him everything, and in the end, he took whatever I had left, and pitched me over the edge of the Grand Canyon, on fire and helpless.

He took too fucking much.

My home was lost, Zion was far behind me, and I had started anew. With God as my witness, Caesar would pay for what he'd done to me with his life. All who served the Bull would perish, else I would happily die trying. I stared down at the pistol in my hands, a forty-five semi-auto with a silencer. A gift, from a good man. Johnny Cash was his name, the Savior of Zion. I wish he were here with me now, though even he was an ally of the Legion. If I was forced to, I would kill him as well, though I knew I would never survive the fight. Though at the same time, he would disapprove of my decision to take the fight back to Caesar. Nevertheless, I was doing what must be done. For the good of God's Land, and his devoted subjects.

"Get in position," I hissed, the men behind me silently moving about, "We attack in five."

Two hundred men, failures of the Legion, I commanded. All prisoners of Caesar, men who could not perform his bloody tasks with the precision required. I rescued them, I trained them, and now I would lead them in our revenge campaign. My true Father would not approve, this I knew. Though I hoped that many years of repentance would gain his favor enough to welcome me and my brothers, both here and in Zion, into His Heaven. That, however, was for a later time. The New California Republic, an enemy of the Legion, would pay as well. I'd stumbled into one of their camps, burned and near death. Had they been the "good men and women" they claimed to be, they would have assisted me, offered me housing. Instead, they tried to take my life for my service to Caesar. And besides, they were the ones who had told Caesar- No, that was for another time.

They would all die.

A hand touched me on the shoulder, and I stood upright. It was time to make Caesar fear my name.

"Charge."

The town ahead was quiet, dead except for the scattered patrols.

Easy targets for mine and God's wrath.

…

…

_The Lucky 38 Casino, Penthouse Floor_

_3:18 pm, March 30, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

"It would seem that, aside from your brush with the Legion, the _St. Eleanor_'smaiden voyage was a complete success."

I swirled a bit of brandy in my glass, both impatient and upset that I didn't have any time to spend with Boone outside of official business. "You said you had a job for me. Let's get to it; I need to get it out of my way so I can take a much needed vacation."

House raised his eyebrows. "I don't recall appointing you an extended time off."

I raised mine higher, mocking him. "I do, though. I've been traveling the breadth of the Mojave, which is massive, for three months straight, doing your bidding. And before that, I had but a week of peace. I'm taking thirty days, going to Big Mountain, and relaxing."

House scowled furiously at me. In all reality, he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He was the brains, I was the brawns. That's how this arrangement worked. And besides, he simply didn't _trust_ anyone else. "Fine," he said coldly, "But whatever do you plan on doing in that forsaken crater?"

I smiled to myself, "It's not just a crater anymore. It's my playground. My team and I have restored almost every building, cleaned the debris from the landscape, and turned it into a wonderland of sorts. I plan on going to the Sink, and enjoying myself. Maybe I'll hunt some of my Lobotomites…perhaps test myself in my training center…fight to the death in my new arena, which was previously Mobius's dome… Hell, I'll even get back to my research."

House nodded, "Your research? You mean the food sanitizer idea?"

I nodded in return, "Yeah, that'd be it. I'm so goddamn close I can feel it. A few days of study, and I can create it."

"Do not forget, that you are also there to oversee the mass production of Securitrons. While my army is enough to occupy the Mojave, we cannot hold out against an invasion of such magnitude the Legion or the NCR could manifest. We're ten thousand short of what we need."

I waved a hand lazily, "Yeah, I'll get on it. You know, you'd be fucked without me."

House let the humor pass. "I keep you around because you're too valuable to kill, the fact that you know that full well doesn't help."

I was pissing him off. Excellent. "House, we're friends and you know it."

"I'm grateful for your involvement in my empire, giving me the body I now possess. However, progress has no friends, other than success and achievement."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I'm bailing out. Tell me what I've got to do so I can go enjoy myself."

Mr. House rose without a word, and nodded to the monitor. An image of Joshua Graham appeared on the screen. "You know who this is, of course. My recent scouting of the land, Zion in particular, has resulted in the discovery that Joshua Graham is no longer present. A second bit of news comes from Colorado, where a Legion prisoner camp was raided and set on fire. The attack pattern was perfect, as the Legion acts. The most logical explanation is that someone from the Legion attacked their own camp. The prisoners were set free, some two hundred, and since that day, this happened," he showed a video recording of a Securitron watching a slightly larger town be leveled at night by an unseen army, "Joshua Graham has, no doubt, decided to use his tactical prowess to exact his revenge on Caesar."

I shrugged, though I knew what he would say to my response. "Why should we care?"

"We care," he protested, "Because I also believe it highly likely that Joshua Graham will then turn on the NCR who, aside from myself, is the best hope for the rebirth of this country. You know that my sole intentions are to preserve humanity. With the Legion at Graham's command, he would have no choice but to attack both me and the NCR, else be killed in his sleep. Caesar is content, for now, with spreading East. I hear he's met a lot of opposition, and his progress is halted. Though he is still very powerful, someone like Graham could take his life, and then his throne, without much effort. You must prevent Graham from doing this at all costs."

I stared at him in disbelief, "We could let Graham kill Caesar, then march on the Legion at the same time, during the chaos. I know Joshua, and he only wants to be paid the revenge he's due. Fuck Caesar, and fuck his Legion. We could enlist the help of the NCR and wipe him off the map."

House snorted derisively, "And allow the NCR to own half the country? I think not. I am not strong enough to enforce my will on both the NCR and the Legion, though if one were to conquer the other, I would have no will at all. I would then be facing an army of unheard of proportions, and I would be crushed. Thus spelling doom for humanity. No, in the end, I must lead this new country. Though for now, I can only play with the cards dealt. If the NCR follows my design, they can keep hold of California, and I will own the Center States, and possibly even the East."

"Right," I said, "So wouldn't it be easier if the Legion were gone?"

"The Legion will be gone when I can control the NCR. Until then, I need something to prevent the NCR from becoming too powerful, and expanding across my borders. Once my new army of Securitrons is complete, say in a year or two, I will be the sole commandant over all of Nevada, and then into Arizona. We cannot allow Joshua Graham to upset my plans. Surely you can see that this is best for everyone."

_It is what's best; House is the only hope for returning society to what it was. The NCR will have us all war torn and corrupt as the Old World, and under their banner we'll have World War Four before the Wasteland is even in the third Century. Caesar will run the nation strong and proud, devoid of chems and corruption. However, that stability comes with the price of slavery, and torture. House is as good to his people as the NCR, and as ruthless as Caesar._

"It's what's best, of that I don't doubt. When do I leave?"

"In two days," he replied, looking pleased, "You can spend that time doing whatever you wish, though I will need you to fly out with the Enclave Vertibird if you are to reach Graham before he attacks another city. We cannot have him crippling the Legion."

"I understand. I'm heading down to the Gamorrah."

House appeared as if he was going to chuckle, then thought better of it, resuming his stern visage. "Be here in two days, before dawn." He stared back down at his paperwork, a sign of clear dismissal.

…

…

"Dealer shows nineteen."

I glanced happily at my pair of tens.

"That's two hundred caps to you, sir."

"Thanks," I replied, setting my cigarette aside and pulling the pile of chips to my end of the table.

I placed my chips in a bag, and left the table, heading for the cashier. After getting my payout, I made my way out back to where the whores were. I had a free ride with a young blonde named Yvonne, and I was NOT missing it. Not even House could get me to pass up this opportunity. I pushed open the door to the courtyard, breathing in the sweet smell of the plants the Gamorrah's planted there. I saw her instantly, chatting up a gambler across the reflection pool. We locked eyes, and she smiled.

Ten minutes later, we were on our way to my room, laughing as we did so.

"For a minute I thought you weren't gonna take my offer, sweetie."

I grinned. "With that ass, I'm not sure I could say no and not be thought of as a faggot."

.I pushed the door open, pulling her inside. The door slammed loudly behind us. I snatched my hidden nine millimeter, Maria, from my waistband, ready to gun down whoever was waiting for me in my room.

The Rose of Sharon Cassidy, or Cass, stood behind the door, sawed off double barrel leveled at my chest.

"Drop it, pretty boy, or I'll make you regret grabbing that little bitch pistol."

I sighed, relieved it was just Cass. "Alright," I set Maria down on the bed, "Relax. But you could've just knocked. The bed's big enough for three."

She scowled at me, then trained her gun on Yvonne, "Get out of here, girl. This conversation is for adults."

Yvonne bolted.

"Cass, I was looking forward to her. I've been cramped on a boat with Boone for ten days."

She shrugged, "You've got my sympathies, that guy's an ass."

I threw myself onto the soft mattress, not worried in the slightest that Cass my try to shoot me. "He's a good man. But you didn't come all the way to the Strip to talk about Craig Boone. What's up?"

Cass relaxed visibly, and plopped down on the bed next to me. I could smell the desert flower scent of her skin, a tribute to her time in the Mojave. "I need your help, so it seems."

I leaned up on one elbow, fixing her with a sarcastic stare, "Oh, do you now?"

She glared at me, "Yes, I do. I…need some paying work. You're the only one who knows I'm capable of doing whatever needs be done."

"Sounds like you need to work on your people skills a little bit."

She fingered the shotgun, "Maybe so, but my aim's just fine. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

I sighed, wiping a hand across my face. "I've got to go kill one of my friends at the Colorado-Texas border in two days. I could use backup."

Cass's face brightened. "Kill a friend, huh? Okay, I can do that. What's the payout?"

I thought for a moment. Having Cass along would give me both company and reliable support, and if she was hard on money then I'd better pay her good. "How's two thousand sound?"

"NCR money?"

"If you prefer that, sure."

She extended a hand, which I shook. "Done."

I laughed, And peeled my formal suit, revealing my muscled chest. Cass looked away, and I grinned again. "I'm going to take a shower. I guess you can have the bed, but you're sharing it. I've slept on boards for ten days."

"It'll be just like that night at the Tops, then?" She laughed at our inside joke, then removed her jacket and weapons.

"Right, just with less gunfire and whiskey."

"Aww, that's never fun."

I showered quickly, and then climbed into the bed. Cass was already sleeping, but she stirred when I laid my head down, and soon enough she'd scooted over to my side of the bed.

"Cass, what are you doing?" I asked, smiling.

She chuckled, "Don't get your hopes up. I just want to talk, that's all. I've been alone in the Mojave for two weeks."

I sighed, deciding I wasn't sleeping that night, and sat upright, turning the radio on low for background noise.

"I'll get the beer."

She smiled, "I'll hide the guns."


	3. Ripples in the Sand

_Colorado-Texas Border, 5 Miles North of Former Omega Tribe Territory_

_7:11 pm, April 1, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

I slowed the dune buggy to a stop at the edge of a steep cliff, removing my helmet as I did so.

From my vantage point, I could see Joshua's army gathered around tents. "Binoculars," I said to Cass, my hand extended. I felt their weight in my glove, and zoomed in on the assembly below. It appeared as if Joshua's men were barely standing, armed with cheap leather armor and whatever they could find to use as a weapon. One man even had a sharpened rock clutched in his fist. For a moment, this bothered me. Joshua had led the Sorrows and the Dead Horses of Zion into combat against the White Legs with such surgical precision that, though outnumbered greatly, they were able to massacre their opposition. Here, it seemed Joshua had employed none of his tactical prowess, instead settling for sheer numbers versus talented warriors.

"What do you see?" Cass asked.

I grunted, "Lots of Legion."

She chuckled, "I'll load the guns."

I didn't respond. This wasn't right. It was like seeing a dumb Mr. House, or a weak Caesar. Joshua Graham was a military genius, Caesar's finest. Even Lanius wasn't up to par with the level of cunning that was the Burned Man. Yet, from what I knew of Joshua, his bloodlust had been sated after the death of Salt-Upon-Wounds back in Zion, a death we hid from the other natives. Joshua was a devout Christian man, not one to just embark on a crusade of murder and conquest. The Joshua Graham I knew in Zion wanted nothing more than to spend the remainder of his days in isolation, repenting for his crimes committed under Caesar's reign.

Something was not right, here.

"Let's go down there."

Cass snorted, "Are you fucking crazy? There must be three hundred men down there."

"Two," I replied softly, "But yeah, we're outnumbered. I'll have to wear my Power Armor."

I rose slowly, crawling back to the buggy. In the back, beside the engine, was a metal footlocker. I sprung the locks, and withdrew a heavy, curved block of steel: My Enclave Power Armor. The next ten minutes were spent wriggling out of my Chinese Stealth Armor, and into the much heavier power armor. One of a kind, the suit was a gift from Arcade Gannon after I won over the last remnants of the Enclave to House's rule. _Actually,_ I thought to myself with a grim smile, _there are six sets, four for the Enclave Remnants team, mine, and one buried beneath the ground at the Deathclaw Promontory. _

Either way, the armor was unique, and to find a stronger defense against energy weapons and guns alike, one could not. Cass handed me my unique Gauss Rifle, YCS/186, which I slung across my back. I strapped my Plasma Defender across my hip, and hefted a standard laser rifle in my hands. Cass wore only reinforced leather armor, and her typical Caravan Shotgun. I donned my helmet, smiling as my own personal Heads Up Display upgrade flashed to life. Lastly, I tucked A Light Shining in Darkness into the side of my belt. I'd need it.

"Okay," I said to Cass, my voice mechanical through the helmet, "Just stick close to me. Joshua's seen this armor before, so he shouldn't open fire, not immediately anyways."

Cass's mouth opened in protest, "You're just going to _walk_ into a two hundred man Legion army?"

I nodded as best I could with the helmet, "Yeah, that's the plan. Stick close, and don't shoot anybody unless I do."

"This is fucking nuts," she spat, though she moved to my left side.

The pair of us descended a rocky slope that we'd past just before arriving at the cliff that would lead to the flatland below, struggling not to lose our footing and roll several hundred feet to our doom. While my suit kept me cool, Cass's incessant bitching caused me to sweat with stress nonetheless.

"So you're just going to walk in there, shoot this Joshua in the face, and leave?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't he your friend?"

"Yup."

Cass laughed, "So should I be worried as well? If House tells you to shoot me, you'll do it?"

"Probably."

She slapped me on the arm, her hand no doubt stinging as it struck the solid steel plate. "You're being a smartass. I'm serious, Johnny. I'd like to know the plan so I don't get caught in a firefight."

I sighed, the breath sounding reminiscent of someone shouting down a drain culvert, "I'm going to walk in, get an audience with Joshua, and try to convince him not to march on Caesar."

"At the same time, you'll be trying to hide your affiliation with the Legion?"

"Sort of. He knows I'm with House, but he also already knows I'm loved among the Legion. It's…hard not to tell,"

If she had any questions about that statement, she withheld them, instead asking, "And what if you can't talk him out of it?"

I shrugged, the metal making no sound as I did so, "I shoot him in the face. Which would really suck, he's a nice guy."

Cass muttered something that sounded very much like "nice guy, my ass." The encampment grew nearer, only a few hundred yards away now, and I could make out the sentries standing guard at the perimeter. Again, very few seemed to have guns. Even in the Legion, where only scattered soldiers, ones who'd proven their worth, were allowed guns, the others were highly trained with javelins and machetes. Here, the sentries were carrying tire irons, baseball bats, and one man even carried a shovel. It was as if Joshua had embarked on this crusade without properly planning how to fund his army, which was unlike him. Or perhaps he simply didn't care about his men, which was even more unlike his nature.

The sentry guards barked in alarm, just now seeing Cass and I marching on their position. Again, this bothered me. True Legionnaires would have known where we were the second we began to make our way down to their camp, and attacked accordingly. Whatever was going on here, it definitely wasn't Joshua Graham leading the army. Of that, I was now certain. _Imagine the look on House's face when I get to tell him he's wrong._

"They know we're here," Cass observed.

"But too late."

"Too late?"

"Real Legion would've known we were here an hour ago."

"Hmm."

Ten men spread out in a half circle, jogging towards us. These men, at least, carried an odd assortment of firearms.

"Don't shoot anyone," I said to Cass, though I flicked the safety off my rifle.

She made no indication she'd heard me, though the grinding of her gloves gripping the stock of the shotgun seemed unnaturally loud, even through my helmet. I stopped in my tracks, Cass alongside me. The small group of ramshackle convicts halted their startled approach, each looking tense and wary. I remained motionless, the laser rifle held tightly in my hands.

One man, a tall, thin bearded man with an eyepatch, stepped forward and pointed his NCR Service Rifle at Cass, who tensed. "We do not welcome women here," he sneered in such a manner that made me want to remove his face and wipe my ass with it, "So you'll have to leave," he jerked his head in my direction, "You, however, we've been expecting. Our general, the Predator, will see you now."

_The Predator? Joshua, what're you doing..._

"She goes with me, she's my wife."

I knew that Cass would have my balls for that statement, though it was necessary.

"Hmpf," the eyepatch man scoffed, "Well tell her to keep that cunt to herself, we don't need some whore sucking and fucking the sense out of this army."

Cass took a step forward, dropping her shotgun in the dirt. The party balked, raising their weapons. I seized her arm, darting in front of her while simultaneously drawing my Plasma Defender. I pressed the barrel of my laser rifle against the Eyepatch's forehead, training the pistol on the man beside him who'd just pulled the hammer back on his .357 magnum.

"Easy, boys. She goes with me. And you'll do well to keep your comments to yourself, you fucking degenerate."

Eyepatch's one good eye was so wide it nearly broke out of his skull. The man beside him looked as if he was about to wet himself.

_These men aren't soldiers... What the hell is Joshua playing at?_

"Let's go see this Predator."

Eyepatch hesitated, probably deciding whether he could overpower me or not. I forced the rifle harder against this face, and he nearly fell over.

"Alright," he said, "Follow me."

...

...

_Kelly Ridge, California, NCR Elite Ranger Outpost_

_9:12 pm, April 1, 2284_

_Craig Boone._

Fucking Legion.

They were the scourge of the earth. Slavers and imperialists following the blind loyalty to their even more fucked up Caesar. They took what they wanted, when they wanted, and destroyed what they didn't want, or couldn't use. Then, they put those to work who couldn't join the army, or simply had them executed. It was them who took my wife. They are responsible for my mercy shot. They earned this blood feud. Nothing, no force on what was left of this Earth could stop me from exacting my revenge. Simply killing Caesar wouldn't do, I'd already almost done that. I'd kill as many Legion as I could, preventing anyone else from going through what I've been through. I wanted to take the head of every single slaver responsible in taking her. So far as I knew, only two remained: Aurelius of Phoenix, and his nephew, Jannis, a Decanus who took the place of Severus after I killed him on the _St. Eleanor_. All the rest of Cottonwood Cove were killed when Johnny Cash and I upgraded House's Securitrons, which marched from the bunker during the Battle for Hoover Dam, wiping out the entire camp. To make sure, Cash and I returned after the battle and secretly cleaned up the survivors, tracking them down individually and putting them down. Severus had been the one who had come up with the idea of getting in touch with the old lady at the hotel in Novac, and now I'd personally put both of them down. Aurelius would be next, the second I got leave. But I'd interrogate him first, find out who else had been in on the genius idea of "targeting the wife of an ex First Recon sniper, because that'll piss off the NCR." Once I'd done that, I'd personally put them out of commission, with my bare fucking hands.

Satisfaction was close at hand.

"Sir," came a voice behind me, "Garven says we have movement to the east, by the river."

I sighed, cramming my helmet back on and picking up my sniper, "I'll check it out. Get on the radio and get First Recon down here to take our post, we've got to leave by tomorrow if we're ever going to make it in time for our leave."

"Yes, sir."

I grunted, making my way back inside the bunker, heading to the east lookout tower.

We'd been holed up on the outskirts of a new settlement, Kelly Ridge, on the California-Arizona border. Since the NCR had successfully taken most of Oregon, we'd been forced to ensure that our eastern borders were protected while the army raged northward. Soon, they'd be into Washington. House controlled damn near all of Nevada, and since his annexation of Zion Canyon, his Securitrons had begun to spread out, taking almost half of Utah. The Legion was still the largest force in America, however, owning Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado.

_If House would quit being so goddamn bitchy, we could work together and wipe Caesar off the map._

Of course, then we'd have to fight House for control over those states, which would cost us twenty-five thousand men, half our army. _If we even won..._ The idea of being pitted against Mr. House's army, and John Cash, wasn't one I even wanted to humor. By using Cash, House had gained control of Securitrons, the Brotherhood of Steel paladins, newly rehabilitated Great Khans, Boomers, Enclave Remnant, Three Families, and now the warrior tribe of Zion. His army was sure as hell not fifty thousand men, as the NCR's was, though the last estimate our spies gave us was around three and a half thousand. Yet, with that, he would use guerilla warfare against us if we invaded, and would destroy enough of our army that the NCR would be crippled.

An outright war with House was not the best idea, especially not if Johnny Cash was on his team. On the battlefield, laying eyes on The Man in Black would spell utter doom for even the greatest warrior.

I shook my thoughts, ascending the ladder into the East Tower, grumbling all the while. If Garven said he saw something, then he did, of that I had no doubt. He was a skilled Ranger, and his word was to be trusted. Yet _why_ he didn't handle it himself was the cause of my frustration. Since the loss at Hoover Dam to Mr. House, both the NCR and the Legion had been...well, _embarrassed_. The two largest armies in America, and perhaps even the world (as we were one of a whopping six countries who used the Vault idea), had been bested by one genius, a drifter, and an army of robots fifteen times smaller than the NCR. As protocol on the border, only the most senior officers were allowed to fire a shot. Though all but the NCR brass were below the Elite Rangers, even we were subject to the chain of command. Only a Captain, third rank from the top, could issue a wartime command. I happened to be a Captain, the only one among the Elite Rangers in Bravo Company. So, it fell to me to take the shot, if need be.

I pushed the trapdoor open, clambering silently into the eight foot square tower. Garven was knelt down, Anti-Material Rifle dressed in full desert ghillie, poking out the window overlooking the canyon.

"Garven," I whispered, easing into the spotter's position and scanning the opposing cliff, "Jensen said you'd spotted something?"

Garven continued to stare forward, his helmet off and resting at his feet. He avoided making eye contact, something I attributed to his obvious post-traumatic stress disorder. He'd been an original NCR Desert Ranger (NCR's Special Forces units, usually in charge of common infantry) before he was upgraded to the Elite position. The Legion had captured him at the Battle of Hoover Dam, and he was found a year later. He wouldn't talk about where he'd been, or what he'd seen. The only thing he would confirm was that he'd "been to Hell, and wasn't going back anytime soon." After testing him to make sure he was stable, the brass had placed him under my command. He was a good soldier, though I knew his mind wasn't where it needed to be. In fact, I had him scheduled to be discharged and mandated therapy at the New Vegas Medical Clinic at the end of the week.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice tense, "I caught it on the camera. The video's on the terminal, sir."

I nodded, slipping away from the window. At the rear of the tower, was a terminal propped up on a desk. I sat down in the chair, careful to not make a sound.

Keying the password, I selected the recent video recordings from "Camera Eight: West Tower". I struggled to navigate the program, as very, very few existed. Most bases did not have cameras, or terminals that recorded video. Only the blackest of the black ops, such as the Elite Rangers, had access to such equipment. A screen popped up.

Robco Industries  
Unit No. 00066733419

Video Files Present: 19

Most Recent: 03/32/84

I keyed the most recent icon.

Error 19902

No file found

I frowned.

"Garven," I hissed, "There's no file. How do you work this damn thing?"

I looked up from the terminal, expecting to see Garven crawling over to fix some simple mistype on my part.

Instead, I found myself staring down the barrel of nine-millimeter NCR service pistol. A pistol held by Garven.

I stared at him, my mind instantly grasping the situation.

_Garven sent me to look at this terminal, to get the drop on me. That's also why he brought me to this tower. But why? He's a good man..._

"How about I point my gun at you for a while," I spat, my jaw clenched.

Garven let the hostility pass. "I'm sorry, sir."

I slowly reached up, removing my helmet. There was no other logical explanation, than that Garven was a traitor. It had become common in the first few weeks after the loss in the Mojave for Caesar's Frumentarii to impersonate a soldier long enough to get the target they had been assigned to eliminate, though the practice had seemed to die down after enough had been killed, mostly by me. Garven, I hadn't thought, could ever be one of them.

"There's nothing to say, Garven," the younger man avoided my eyes, "Well, if you're going to do it, look me in the face. There is no honor for the Frumentarii by killing a man without watching him die."

Garven suddenly seemed troubled. "That's not what I am."

Without warning, he fired a round into my right shoulder, the bark of the gun sounding as a cannon in the previously still night. I felt the hot punch of the bullet, yet the pain did not register. A grunt of surprise escaped my lips, though I never took my eyes off him, even as I fell from the chair into a kneeling heap on the floor. We locked eyes, forming a bond that I refused to break. He WAS going to watch me die, if he was to earn my respect. He squeezed the trigger again, this time scoring a deep flesh wound that narrowly missed the bone in my thigh. I ground my teeth, nearly biting my tongue off in the hiss of agony that escaped my lips. Though, still, I forced him to stare at me.

"Do it, Garven," I growled, trying to unnerve him, "Fair is fair, and I deserve it. Be a fucking man."

He holstered his pistol, drawing a pair of brass knuckles from his jacket pocket.

"Hold still, Boone. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I have to."

Without waiting for a response, he struck me twice across the face, splitting my skin. I felt warm, smooth blood stream down my cheek and onto my jacket. I defiantly spit a globule of gore onto his boots, and he took a step back, staring down at his foot.

He shook his head, "I've got to take you, sir. It's the only way I survive this."

Again, I had no time to respond. Garven lifted his foot, and Spartan kicked me squarely in the face, bouncing my head off the wall behind me and blacking out my vision.

I felt my body fall limply to the floor, and a pair of strong hands seize my amrs, binding my wrists behind my back.

...

...

I knew I faded out, though for how long I wasn't sure. When I came to, unable to see, I noticed that I was quite cold, despite the Mojave's natural heat.

Also, I could hear voices.

"-be happy about this, Garven."

"He'll have to deal with it. It took everything I had to get this man, he's a fine warrior."

"Sure, whatever baby. What matters is that we've got him, and soon the big Ka-Ching will be sliding our way, smooth as glass."

"You better hope he doesn't."

There was a shuffle of feet. "You'd better watch how you talk to me. I'm the king of these waters, eh? See, what you don't seem to understand, is that he and I've got a history, ya dig? We've been playing this game for a long time."

"Sure."

I heard the definitive sound of a magazine being slapped into a pistol, then the slide being pulled back. "The cat takes something that belongs to me, then I shoot him in the face, and get this, he _survives_! Then he goes around the damn desert on some revenge plan, meets this NCR boy here, shoots up my casino, and caps me with my own gun in Caesar's Fort."

"I don't care, boss."

"See," I heard the other man step close to my face, "He didn't realize something: The game was rigged from the start. Even House has no idea I'm still around. And now, as long as this goes well, we'll be the most powerful guys in the world. You, with the NCR, and me with House's empire that should've belonged to me in the first place."

A sense of realization crept over me...this guy, the one doing all the fancy talking...that was-

"Benny," Garven spat, "I did what I was paid to do. I'm done."

Benny chuckled. "Sure, you're done, baby."

_BANG!_

The unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor filled the room, which must've been quite small for the sound to be so confined.

_Shit...Garven..._

"What a waste, guy," I felt a distinctive barrel press against the back of my head, "I sure hope you're smoother than that cat, eh baby? Otherwise I'll have to do you like a fink, and that's not how I roll."

The pressure lifted, and the footsteps faded in the distance. I heard a door squeak open. "Oh, and Boone? Don't try to escape. My men are quite good at what they do, and you'd hate to find yourself tied up in a Deathclaw pit, eh?

...

...

_Rogue Military Command Tent, Colorado-Texas Border_

_10:20 pm, April 1, 2284_

_Johnny Cash._

Cass and I stood patiently inside a spacious, conical tent.

We'd been here for three hours. Apparently this "Predator" had to personally inspect the entire camp before he could retire for the night. This action was more like the Joshua Graham I knew, taking it upon himself to make sure the fine details were taken care of. Despite his bloody past, one modeled off the ancient Roman emperor Caligula, Joshua had found solace in Zion, and repented for his crimes. Despite his turn of faith, he could not abandon his genius as a military commander. The fact that, although his army was uncoordinated and unprepared, he had decided to employ one fiber of his old self only strengthened my belief that something was terribly wrong with Joshua Graham. It was NOT like him to be so inconsistent.

The tent flap blew open, and two guards with shotguns stepped inside, flanking a man of average build. The man wore a white mask with a thin oval that exposed his eyes, which were a cold, hard gray. The skin around the eyes was dark, tan, though appeared as rippled water, no doubt the result of healed over burns. On his body, he wore a simple tactical vest, and a white long sleeve shirt, black jeans, and combat boots. His hands were gloved, and clasped around a Colt forty-five with a silencer.

The man was without a doubt, Joshua Graham, though he'd replaced his bandages with actual clothing, a sign that he no longer felt as an infirm.

"Leave us," he said to his men, who nodded, vacating the tent instantly.

As soon as the three of us were alone, Joshua extended a hand, which I shook.

"Greetings, friend. It is good to see you alive and well."

I nodded, "You too, Predator."

Joshua shifted. "A name I chose at the last minute, a nod from the Lord."

I took a seat at a small able without asking, wiping sweat from my forehead. Joshua sat opposite me, while Cass remained standing.

"Joshua, before we begin speaking, know that my own boss has instructed me to put a bullet in your head. But before I make any decision, I want to know everything. Why you're here, why you're attacking Caesar, and why the hell you're not in Zion protecting those tribes, who I might remind you are under House's protection now, under your command. I gave House my word you wouldn't fail, and now I find you here."

He nodded, then set his pistol on the table. "This is a long tale, so sit and listen, friend."

I sighed, trying to calm myself. After several long seconds, I set A Light Shining in Darkness on the table, a signal of trust, and nodded.

Joshua took a deep breath, folding his hands on the table.

"Two months ago, I was traveling with some Dead Horses around Zion's outskirts, searching for any of the local plants to give to Daniel and the Sorrows, who would in turn make a natural medicine for a sickness spreading throughout the Dead Horses. Follows-Chalk was with me. As we searched the passage that you use to enter the canyon, we found one of your merchant groups, the Happy Trails group. They had been slaughtered. Though not by any local animal. No, I noticed right away that there were bullet holes in the men and Brahmin, and the medical supplies gone. This, this meager assistance, is all we accept from the outside world, as you know. Without it, my brothers and sisters will surely fall ill to this sickness, and die. When I left Zion, I had already buried twelve good men myself. It was then that God told me to strike back, to avenge his children. Upon returning to the attack site, I saw what I could not ignore: one of the attackers, dead. Upon his person, I found a note, signed by the mark of a Legion Decanus, issuing the order to attack the caravan, by the information provided by one called, the Westman.

"Now," he held up a hand, "When I was...Lost, my old comrades and I would call the men of the NCR, Westmen. This must mean that the mercenaries were Legionarries, as none other would know the term, and the NCR gave them the location of the caravan. Why the NCR wants us out of the picture is simple: We are pledged to serve House, if the time arises. And we are _only_ agreed to that, because we trust you. Now, with us out of the way, the NCR could easily defile the sanctity of Zion. I will not allow this. Therefore, I freed this group of slaves to attack Caesar, hoping to lure out his Frumentarii, who would no doubt try to assassinate me. I, unlike them, have God on my side. I would then interrogate this agent, and learn the truth of this entire scheme, and put an end to it."

He sighed, and dipped his head. "I will gladly blacken my soul further to protect God's holiest land. Zion is pure, untainted. What happened with Salt-Upon-Wounds..."

I held up a hand, "I did what had to be done. I too, have a love for Zion."

Joshua dipped his head. "You did not have to. I should have done it."

"But you didn't. And I wouldn't change it. My soul is as black as yours. You killed for a man, for pleasure. I kill for a man, and for revenge. We're the same. God will sort us out in the end." I stared hard at him.

He made no physical acknowledgement, so I continued. "The NCR had nothing to do with this, I promise."

His head snapped up sharply, meeting my eyes. "You know this?"

I hesitated, and he saw it. His eyes narrowed. "I have a select few I consider actual friends. One of them, a man who is my brother in all but blood, is an NCR top Black Ops Ranger. If the NCR had plans to attack one of House's subjects, especially one as close to me as Zion, I would know."

Joshua sighed. "Your boss, this...Mr. House, has failed Zion, and God."

I shifted in my seat. We could not afford to lose Zion, or have Joshua as an enemy. "It will not happen again. You will not allow unholy men and women in your canyon-"

"God's Canyon, I am merely its sentinel."

"Right," I tried not to seem irritated, "So House and I cannot protect you from this. We will have to think of a mutual agreement, and make a pact. However, before that happens, you must call off your attack on Caesar."

The room fell silent, and the tension could be cut with a knife.

"Why?"

"Because," I began, reviewing my mental notes, "Caesar is a tyrant, no doubt. He is a degenerate and a sinner. But he is confined to his own province, and, in time, House will remove him. But if you take him out now, the NCR will feel unopposed, and sweep across Nevada and Utah, Zion in turn, and God's land will be lost because you sought revenge. You're a military genius, even if you've hidden that fact. You know what I say is true."

He sat silent for a moment. "God must not be stepped on. He is our Father, and he gives his Grace for all. Caesar has defiled that. He must pay."

I thought for a moment, frantically searching for an alternative. "Look, the NCR wouldn't directly attack House, or me. They would be afraid of starting another war. And, the Legion wouldn't either. Caesar knows you're alive, but he doesn't know where you're at. Zion is nobody' target. I can prove this: Let me go and fetch Craig Boone, and the two of us will teleport here, directly into your tent. He's in charge of Intel for the Nevada area. He'll know if something's up, and he won't lie. When he proves, with records and everything, that the NCR was probably framed, will you back off the Legion?"

"Framed or not, the Legion still attacked our only line of supplies."

I frowned at him. "With guns only? You know the Legion would have crucified those men."

Joshua didn't reply, not right away. He stared at his own hands for a long while, his breathing calm and smooth. "You are right, brother. You have five days. After that, this army will turn on me, and then Zion will be defenseless. I must march at that time."

I extended a hand, doubt gripping my chest. "I'll be here, with Boone, in five days."

"So be it." He shook my hand.

"John, I hope you're right. If not, then the Battle of Hoover Dam will be but a skirmish compared to the havoc I will wreak on House for his failure, and the NCR and the Legion for what they did to Zion."

I lowered my head respectfully, a twinge of fear touching my mind.

"I know."


	4. Plans in Motion

_Dark Shady Room, Somewhere in California._

_Unknown time, April 2, 2284_

_Craig Boone_

I had no idea where I was, only that I was somewhere.

Roughly a day had passed, of that much I was aware. I was not blindfolded, though wherever I was must've been underground, because there was absolutely zero light whatsoever. This room, or whatever it was, couldn't have been very large. I'd coughed intentionally to test the echo, but there wasn't one. I was pretty sure I was tied to a post, but I guess it could've been a pillar or something. I spent my time thinking of ways to break out of wherever I was, what happened to the rest of my team, Garven's betrayal, Benny's survival, and most of all, _why_ Benny wanted anything to do with me. I'd heard him say something about "The Big Ka-Ching coming our way", or however Benny worded it. At first, I thought he meant some payout for my capture, probably from Legion spies. But then I remembered what Garven had said in response: "You better hope he doesn't." So Ka-Ching was a man, not a sum of money.

Then I thought of that idea, "money." Everyone knew that Ka-Ching was the sound an Old World cash register made, and since it'd been associated with money. Yet I'd ruled out the idea of ransom. So, I played it out as a riddle. Ka-Ching meant money, which was also called caps, Legion coins, NCR dollars, and in slang terms, cash.

Cash.

It'd taken my about five seconds to figure out that he meant Johnny Cash. Benny had shot Johnny over the platinum chip, but he survived. One revenge fueled bullet-backed campaign across the Mojave later, and Cash had shot Benny in the chest three times in Caesar's Fort, and thrown his body into the Colorado River. Obviously, he hadn't done the trick. Yet, I also couldn't help but wonder _how_ Benny managed to get Garven over to his side. It was nearly impossible to convert an Elite Ranger, as they went through very strenuous mental training when applying for the position, to ensure loyalty. Garven had said "I've done what I was paid for," but that didn't make sense. Garven made enough NCR money to ignore a bribe, especially from Benny. So what had Benny paid him with? Weapons? Chems? It didn't make sense. All Benny knew was manipulation, and how to absorb power. Neither would have worked on a trained mind like Garven's.

Yet something had, that was obvious.

A door slammed shut somewhere behind me, causing me to jump, shaking my thoughts.

"Ah, so this is Craig Boone," said a voice from the darkness, cool as ice and reminiscent of a serpent, "You've got quite a reputation."

Whoever he was, he was NOT breaking me. "So does your wife."

Footsteps slowly made their way around my left side, stopping in front of me. I wished I could see whoever this was, maybe I could mind fuck him into setting me free. Yet, at the same time, my training told me that I was about to be interrogated, and perhaps insulting the man who _wasn't_ chained to a pole might be a dumb idea. But I could not, and would not, allow any secrets of the NCR or of Johnny Cash to fall into the wrong hands. I'd die first.

"We've got a comedian, so it seems."

A crushing blow rocked my head to the side with such force, I thought it would remove it from my neck. Before I could straighten myself, a second obvious punch struck the other side of my face, splitting my eyebrow. I groaned, infuriated that I couldn't fight back. A rough hand seized my throat, slamming my skull back against the metal pole.

"I never liked comedians, Boone," the hand tightened its grip, "Now, tell me where it is, and we'll only beat you senseless and leave you naked in the Mojave. Otherwise, we'll be forced to torture you until you talk, or until you die."

I spat blood on the ground. "Where what are? I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."

The hand withdrew from my throat, and a sharp pain erupted across my right side, splattering my vision with white spots that stood out in the darkness. _The bastard slapped me, like a woman..._ I clenched my teeth, ready to sit silent the entire while. But then a thought occurred to me, _What would Johnny do?_

He'd make jokes until the guy was too pissed to think straight.

"Your daughter slaps harder than that when I'm plowing her."

A second, third, and fourth vicious punch followed that comment, opening a new pair of flesh wounds.

"You're hilarious, Ranger. But my daughter is but a child, and you know exactly what we're talking about. The _weapon_, Boone. The one that was at Helios One. The NCR thought they could just move it without anyone knowing. But House found out, didn't he? And Cash hid it somewhere. Your beloved President knows of the weapon's existence, and that's why he's afraid of House. But us...we've got a plan. And you're going to help us."

I shook my head, knowing he couldn't see me. He was talking about ARCHIMEDES, a nuclear bomb hidden in Helios One before the war. It was later discovered by the Brotherhood of Steel, and after that, the Followers of the Apocalypse, and then finally Cash and I stumbled across it. After Hoover Dam, a small team of us removed the bomb, though none knew where Cash took it. The team consisted of me, Raul Trejada (a ghoul who favors the Legion), Veronica (Brotherhood of Steel Scribe), Cass the whiskey lady, Arcade Gannon (former Enclave member), and Johnny. After we'd smuggled the massive nuke out of Helios, we were forced by House to part ways while Johnny hid it somewhere. Not even I, Cash's closest friend, knew of its whereabouts.

"Well, you're shit out of luck, I wasn't allowed to go with him when he hid it. And as for your daughter," I allowed myself a grin through my swollen lips, "She may be a child, but she rocks it like a big girl-"

My interrogator roared, striking my face and stomach with a seven-punch burst. I felt my nose and two ribs break, blood and air both rushing from my body with a quickness rarely seen. I gasped, choked, and would have fallen on my side had my hands not been fastened above my head.

"You fucking NCR puke," the man spat, his breath hot on my face, "You're a pervert and a liar. But either way, we'll know soon enough. My boss has plans for you, Ranger."

After a departing soccer kick to my balls, the man's footsteps faded away behind me, and I heard the door slam again, leaving me bleeding in the dark, and the silence.

_Johnny hides a nuke, for the greater of mankind, and now I'm paying for it with my face._

_ No,_ I scolded myself, _don't be a pussy. I agreed to help him, knowing that this was a possibility. Soon enough, my men will report me missing, and then House will find out, he always does. That means that Johnny is, at most, a week away from barging in here and saving my ass._

_ Assuming Benny doesn't do him in first._

...

...

_Somewhere between Airzona and Nevada_

_3:19 pm, April 2, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

I had the accelerator floored, kicking up a cloud of dust behind the buggy.

Cass sat silent, probably still pissed that I said she was my wife, and what the guard had said to her. One would have thought that she would've gotten over it already, having jacked my jaw the second we made it back up to the ridge and loaded the car. Yet, apparently she hadn't. She was content with staring at the vast, ruined nothingness that was the Wasteland which dominated this shithole planet. Dust, Brahmin, raiders, and scattered skeletons of civilization were all that remained of the former glory of humanity. And yet, true society had only been back for thirty, maybe forty years, and yet we already had political corruption, assassinations, factions, and a war to rival those of old.

Humans, so it seemed, never learned.

I snorted in disappointment, swerving to avoid a molerat. _House will put an end to all the bullshit that comes with democracies._

My Pip-Boy vibrated against my wrist, my sign that House was trying to contact me.

I slowed to a stop behind a large boulder, drawing a look of annoyance from Cass. Ignoring her, I held my Pip-Boy up to eye level, preparing for House's face to appear.

It did, though I couldn't help but notice that he appeared quite stressed. "Cash, your GPS says you're almost in Nevada. What happened with Graham?"

I gave him the lengthy rundown, pausing only once for a breath. "I see," he replied, appearing stern, "We cannot allow him to attack the Legion, or the NCR. If he believes the NCR sold out Happy Trails Caravans, then we must convince him otherwise. Happy Trails belongs to me, and the NCR would not attack me. Nor, do I think, would the Legion, not for such a petty gain. I believe that both parties were framed. And besides, they've never worked together before."

I nodded, glad he was repeating what I'd said and thought, "I agree, and that's what I told Joshua. So, somebody's impersonating both the NCR and the Legion. But who could have that sort of power? You can't just pay someone to get shot, and frame the NCR. Finding common raiders and bandits to dress up like NCR or Legion and shoot someone isn't all that hard, but to command their respect in such a manner _is_ difficult. Most raiders would have taken the medicine from the saddlebags, instead of just shooting it up."

House nodded, "There seems to be a new face in the Wasteland, and whoever they are have no love for the NCR, the Legion, or me."

I frowned, "What evidence says they're after you?"

House seemed irritated and answered bitterly, "They attacked _my _caravans, in _my _territory. Everyone who's anyone knows that I control that part of Utah. They framed my enemies to ensure that I would attack in kind, which I did not, so they went after you. Soon enough they'll be after the _St. Eleanor_, which I'll have you know just launched its second voyage, which is being protected by some of the Kings members."

I held up a hand, not caring about his fucking cruise ship, "What the hell do you mean, 'they came after me'?"

House hesitated, as if he couldn't find the right words. Completely unlike him. "John," he surprised me by using my first name, something too personal for the businessman, "Last night, there was an incident in California, near the Arizona border," he paused, looking uncharacteristically nervous, "It seems that two Elite Rangers, Jason Garven and Craig Boone, were taken from the east tower. Two bullet holes were found in the wall, and blood around them. I believe that whoever attacked the caravan may well have realized they couldn't get to me, so they went after you."

I forced my eyes away from the small screen, trying to hide my emotion. Boone was my brother, and he'd been taken, possibly killed, to piss off me and House. It wasn't fair, Craig was a good man.

"Any leads on where he went?" I asked, my voice tight.

House shook his head. "No, the Rangers were ordered not to leave the bunker, for fear that they were being spied on by Legion assassins. The NCR can't risk losing the entire Bravo team. I, under the belief that finding Boone will find the answer to the Zion predicament, am asking you to find him. It is very likely that whoever attacked Boone may have attacked the caravan. You can save your friend, and bring this to light all in one sweep. Though, we do not know the extent of this mysterious group's power, so I would wish you do not go alone. Will you allow some Brotherhood Paladins to accompany you? Or maybe some Great Khans? I'm sure even the Kings would go with you."

I shook my head. "No. I understand this is an order, finding Boone, but I'm doing this my way. Contact all my allies, and have them meet me at the Mojave Outpost. From there, we'll move out to the bunker Boone was at. We'll track him across the entire fucking desert, I don't care."

House's eyes softened, something I'd never seen before, nor had I thought it was possible. "Cash...be careful. You're a valuable agent, and a key player in the protection of mankind. I cannot afford to lose you."

I didn't respond, instead raising my eyebrows as a thought came to mind. "Relocate the teleporter from Big Mountain, to the Mojave Outpost. I don't care how it's done, but make sure Cass and I can do it. We'll teleport out tomorrow morning, and you can have some Securitrons come get this buggy, and my gear."

House opened his mouth to speak, probably to chastise me for giving him an order, but then shut it and nodded. "I'll have it done. I'm sure you'll need your rest. I'm also sending the Great Khans and some Securitrons to the Nevada-California border, to the areas not sealed off by the Divide, to make sure the NCR cannot blame us for Boone's disappearance. I've dispatched a message to their president, informing him that I know of Boone's abduction, and that I had no business in it. Oh, and Caesar responded to my treaty regarding the river. It seems that he's in favor of it. Probably knows that he cannot prevent it anyways."

I nodded, truly glad to hear it. The last thing we needed was for a conflict with the Legion.

After a departing banter, the two of us closed off the communication. I unbuckled myself, leaping out of the driver's seat onto the hot, cracked ground.

"Johnny," Cass said gently, as if afraid of making me angry.

"Save it, Cass," I hissed, opening my footlocker, "I'm going after him. I don't care how many people are holding him. I'll kill them all."

She avoided my eyes, absentmindedly tapping the wood stock of her shotgun. "That's not what I mean...John, what if he's already dead. Going after him won't change that."

I pushed my Power Armor aside (now wearing my Chinese Stealth Armor), it would be too bulky for what I'd need. Plunging my hand inside the spacious crate, I fumbled for my Hunting Rifle and suppresor, a gift from Boone and First Recon. Slinging it across my back, I then strapped on A Light Shining in Darkness, my Plasma Defender, All American, and my katana, which would be at my hip.

"If he's dead, then whoever killed him is going to pay," I pushed my Gauss Rifle aside (it was unpractical for sniper warfare, as the bodies always soared twenty feet or better) and grabbed a box of .308 shells, "Nobody fucks with one of my group and lives."

I felt her hand on my arm, and made no move to shake it. "I'm going with you, then."

I nodded, thankful that she'd have my back.

"We should crash here for the night. I'll get a fire going."

She nodded and began to brush dead plants and rocks away from the cart, setting up camp.

I set about searching for shrubs to burn, donning my helmet to avoid having Cass see the emotion in my face.

...

...

_Caesar's Palace, Throne Room, Texas._

_8:22 pm, April 2, 2284_

_Caesar_

This was why I was in charge. I hated politics.

The Legion could never survive if it was a democracy like the NCR. House understood this, which was why I agreed to his plan. It didn't harm me any, and besides, if he thought I was on board, if I decided to turn on him it would be all the easier.

Gathered around me were my six Centurions, and my Legate, Lanius.

"So," I concluded, tired of speech after an entire day on the throne, "Centurion Aurelius will begin construction of our new transport ships. We'll control the entire northern Colorado. Let House have his little spit. Legate, you will assemble Maximus's men, and the pair of you will lead the assault on the Viper gangs that escaped House's wrath into our territory in Arizona. Centurion Desidirious, you will be the one to murder this, "Predator" who has attacked two of my towns now. Murder this army of slaves and crucify its leaders."

A round of, "Ave, true to Caesar," pleased my ears.

The Legate, however, seemed troubled. "What is it, Legate?"

He met my eyes, showing the respect I deserved. "What of the issue we discussed earlier?"

_Ah, _I thought,_ The issue with the Burned Man. Yes, the Frumentarii are on their way to deal with that. Vulpes Incata in particular will assassinate him long before the Centurion gets to him._

"It goes as planned."

Lanius nodded.

I rose, my generals and my Praetorian Guard placing a fist across their chests as one, "My men, go and do your duties. This Legion will strike fear into those who oppose us, as we are the true heirs of Rome's-"

The doors to the throne room burst open, cutting me off. Someone was going to lose their face for that.

Stumbling across my hall, bleeding and barely alive, was Vulpes Incata. His left eye was gone, and his jaw looked broken. One of his hands was crushed flat, and there were at least six poorly healed bullet holes in his bare chest. The usual wolf cowl he wore was gone, replaced by a head adorned with sparse patches of hair, as if someone had branded his skull with hot iron.

"My Caesar," he shouted, "Why didn't you tell me?" His voice echoed across the marble chamber.

Lanius met my eyes, and I nodded. The Legate strode over, seized Incata by the throat, and marched him into a room off to the left of the throne room.

"Go!" I barked, my Centurions making for the door.

I waited until they'd all gone, and charged off after Lanius. I nearly blew the door off the hinges, slamming it behind me. Before it closed, I saw my Praetorian Guard close ranks around the door.

Vulpes Incata was pinned to a chair, held in place by Lanius's massive sword.

"Milord," he squawked, his standard cool voice now frantic, "It is him leading this rebellion, the Burned Man!"

I stared at him, my eyes boring into his. "I know. You were supposed to kill him."

Incata nodded rapidly, "I tried, mighty Caesar. Though Graham is a fierce, intelligent warrior. He took my by surprise, disarming me."

"Tell me how this happened."

The Frumentarii winced, shooting a glance at his flattened left hand. "I crept into his tent, prepared to shoot him while he slept. He landed behind me, apparently hiding above me somewhere. He knocked my gun away, and gored me in the eye with a hot knife. The pain...it was insanity. I stumbled and he was on me, beating my face in. I fought back, worthy of legend our fight was. We tore apart the entire tent, eventually landing outside. He knocked me to the ground, and tried to smash my head in with a sledge hammer. He missed," Incata held up his right hand, "But he caught my hand. After, I stabbed him in the thigh with my ceremonial dagger, but he just..._laughed._ Then he and I went back at it, waking the entire camp as we tore each other apart. He's a great warrior, milord, and he bested me. When I awoke, he had me tied to a chair, questioning me about some attack on his caravan. He didn't say where the attack took place, only that he knew we'd done it. He also said that he found a note, indicating we were informed of the location by the NCR. I told him that wasn't possible, that I would know, but he didn't believe me. He...pressed a hot iron against my head, four times. But I told him nothing. I would not betray you, Caesar."

I stared at him, both furious and...a little frightened that Graham was healthy enough to best Incata, who was better than most my of Praetorians.

"You told him nothing because you knew nothing. I never ordered such an attack. However, you ran from him instead of dying like a man. You are a coward. And, you never discovered _who_ framed my Legion."

Incata stiffened, his eyes cold and leaden with fear. "Milord, I-"

"Legate."

Lanius whipped his vertibird-propeller sword through the air, beheading the Frumentarii with ease.

Lanius mopped the blood off his blade on Incata's pants.

"It would seem," I said slowly, staring at Incata, "That someone, somewhere, has a grudge against my Legion."

Lanius nodded, "And the NCR, and House."

"Agreed. Legate, summon the rest of the Frumentarii, and get some assassins together t figure this out. I don't care who dies, so long as Joshua Graham is one of them, and whoever's responsible for setting us up."

"Milord, what if Graham did this only to have a reason to attack us?"

I snorted, "He wouldn't, he was never one to do something so foolish."

The Legate nodded, bowing and leaving.

I spat on Vulpes Incata's body, pissed at him. _Nobody fails me and lives. When I learn who framed me, tarnished my name, I'll have him crucified while the crows slowly peck out his eyes. But before that, I'll have a worse fate bestowed on Joshua Graham for surviving his first execution._

...

...

_Mojave Outpost, Nevada_

_4:41 am, April 3, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

Mojave Outpost of the New California Republic.

The most prominent of the two remaining NCR chapters in Nevada. Aside from the Embassy on the Strip, House had taken over all the other bases, replacing the California troops with his own (Great Khans, Securitrons, Boomers, Enclave, Brotherhood of Steel), while the Kings, Westside Militia, and Three Families protected the Strip, Westside and Freeside (Now just called "New Vegas" in general) , territories previously patrolled by the NCR.

From where we had landed, about a thousand yards outside the fences, we could see soldiers moving about under streetlights, unawares of our presence.

"I'm following you," I said to Cass, "You're the NCR citizen."

She grunted, and set off in front of me.

Since Cass had her revenge on the ones who attacked her caravans, she'd gone back on her decision to sell Cassidy Caravans. I'd personally footed the bill to purchase the company, then given the deed to Cass, who'd been the main supply line between House and the NCR, with whom we traded various goods. She had a government ID, and I doubted she'd be stopped. I would be in my Chinese Stealth Armor, and I refused to remove my helmet. If the NCR knew that Cass was close to me, they might try to force her to spy on me, and she'd die first. Cass was a good friend, I refused to allow her to be put in that position. I'd gun down as many of the NCR as I had to to get to Boone.

We made our way up the hill, past the wreckage of several ancient buses that had been pulled by Brahmin into makeshift barricades. The fences drew nearer, and for a brief moment, I noticed the distinct lack of noise. Someone, somewhere should at least be making _some_ sound. I focused intently on my surroundings, listening to every feature.

There was a Brahmin up in the Outpost...No, two.

I could hear a light breeze pressing against the shrubs that grew by a barrel cactus a hundred yards to my right.

Some giant soldier ants were fighting one another down at the Ivanpah Dry Lake.

A scuff of stone on metal.

_Wait...there's someone hiding by the buses._

"Cass," I whispered, "There are soldiers by the buses. We're going to be ambushed."

She nodded, drawing her shotgun from her back.

I let a hand drop down to my left thigh, where my Plasma Defender was holstered, unfastening the clasp. The next hundred yards were crossed in silence, each step unnaturally loud in the early morning. The bus was thirty feet from us, and by now I could actually see a combat boot from behind the bus. _At least we know they aren't Rangers,_ I thought with a grim smile, _They'd never be so careless, and besides, I don't want to shoot a Ranger._

I saw Cass stiffen in the darkness, and she broke open her shotgun, checking the ammo. I had no need, as I had done so before we teleported.

The buses were within spitting distance. I could actually hear the men breathing...

"Hold it right there, Cassidy."

I rolled my eyes under my helmet.

Cass, however, did not have a helmet, and openly rolled her eyes. "Day late and a dollar short, son. Saw one of your boots about three hundred yards out."

I chuckled, completely relaxed despite the twenty NCR troops that now encircled us, Service Rifles poised and ready.

A deeper voice, one that had an air of authority, cut in through my laugh. "You'll find that we aren't, Rose Cassidy and Johnny Cash."

I stopped laughing immediately. I knew that voice. A brief memory came to me.

_"-and so I want to thank you, on behalf of the NCR, for your actions today."_

_ I shook my head, extending a hand. _

_ "I may be House's agent, but the thought of the Legion taking over is one I cannot bear. I must be going. It was an honor to meet you, and I hope your flight back is safe, Mr. President._

Aaron Kimball stepped from the ring of infantry, flanked by two Elite Rangers and a First Recon sniper. Beside me, Cass's jaw dropped. I slowly reached up, and removed my helmet, knowing a gunfight was not likely to break out with the leader of the country present. The president and I locked eyes, and I dipped my head in respect.

"President Kimball," I said, my voice smooth as to avoid any more tension than there was, "Again, an honor to meet you."

Kimball nodded. "An honor to meet you as well, though I admit that this meeting is far different than our first, isn't it?"

I nodded tightly, catching on to exactly what he meant.

The first time we'd met, I saved his life from a Legion sniper, and a suicide bomber. I'd been working with the NCR, or so he thought, on House's behalf. My guess was that he, along with the generals under him, believed that House merely wanted to protect their original treaty, and he wouldn't ever take Hoover Dam for himself. When me, the Boomers, and the Enclave rolled up into the Dam on their side, I heard tell that Kimball had prepared to introduce me into the Elite Rangers, a favor for giving him control over the two factions allied with me. But when House's Securitrons arrived, and my allies and I took their side, Kimball must've felt as if I'd personally slapped him in the face.

"You've done a lot for House," he said, though his voice did not seem hostile, "I can understand, John. There aren't any hard feelings. You did what you had to do, what you thought was right. Correct?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled slightly, "Sir? We're on different teams, Cash. It's not like my enemies to display courtesy."

I had to say something quickly, or he'd think we truly were enemies. It was a test. "Enemies? Do you mean to say that the NCR is now openly against House?"

Kimball flushed, caught off guard. "No, that is not what I mean to say. Forget it. I'm here to help you find Craig Boone. However, you have some questions to answer regarding why a scientist, a hooded woman with a power fist, a mechanical dog, a ghoul, a super mutant, an eyebot, a tribal, and an ex First Recon sniper were apprehended by Elite Rangers just outside the Outpost. They all claim to be here to, and I quote, 'assist Johnny Cash in finding Craig Boone'. Now, I was making a private visit to Mojave Outpost today, to meet with House's emissary, one that goes by the title, the King. So, please tell me why it is that eight potential assassins should keep their lives today."

I couldn't believe what I heard, nor had I any doubt who the people were that he listed. House must've called Arcade Gannon, Veronica, Rex, Raul Trejada, Lily, ED-E, Follows-Chalk, and Manny Vargas to help me get Boone. Without care that there was over a dozen guns on me, I burst out laughing, causing the soldiers to flinch. Roaring with mirth, I placed a hand on Cass's shoulder, barely able to stay upright.

_Those asses got busted. Boone's going to find this very funny, assuming he's not dead. Lily probably tripped and rolled down the hill, or Rex started barking._

"Apparently something's hilarious." The president apparently did not share my humor.

"President Kimball," I choked, wiping tears from my eyes, "If you'll take me somewhere private, I'll explain everything."

He hesitated. "My Rangers go with us."

I nodded, still chuckling. "Sure."

...

...

"So," Aaron Kimball said, sipping his cup of coffee, "You're saying that House has a cruise ship on the Nevada stretch of the Colorado River, which is now his, and that he is going to disarm and tax any of my men who try to travel it? And," he threw on a face of mock surprise, "That some faction framed the NCR and the Legion on an attack on a very important caravan, in a location you won't give away, and those same people took Boone to get at you? And at the same time," he held up a hand, "You're taking this group of yours across my country to get him back, without asking me first, and you have no remorse for anyone who gets in your way, be it NCR or Legion? And to finish it all off, you want me to agree to all this, on paper? The ship, the river, the taxation, your invading my country and _not_ declaring war on you?"

I kept my face as stone. "Yeah, that's about it," I help up my cup, "And a refill would be just awesome."

Kimball's mouth twitched, as if he was about to smile. He turned to one of his Rangers, and nodded.

"Okay, I agree to your terms."

I coughed, spitting my coffee on the table, barely missing Kimball's hand. "Well, that's...badass, Mr. President."

He couldn't fight the smile. "You're the only one who can get Craig Boone alive, without starting a war with whatever faction this is, which I have no doubt is powerful if it can silently kill and-or abduct two NCR Elite Rangers, frame both the NCR and Legion enough that some ex Legion gets mad, and to put House on edge. You have the full of the NCR at your back, John Cash, tell me what you need."

I thought for a moment, considering all my options. _Lily and Rex have no part in this, but they have to seem important... Yet I'll need the others for support once this thing gets crazy._

"Allow the Super Mutant and the Cyberdog to stay here, give them an 'important' job to do," I made quotations with my fingers, "They need to feel wanted. As for anything else, I can handle it. Me and my men are about to teleport out of here, then return armed to the teeth. Please don't shoot us."

Kimball frowned, "Teleport?"

"It's a long story."

Kimball shrugged, and then told the Ranger to give me what I wanted. I stood, shaking the President's hand. "Do what you must, Cash, but do not forget that the NCR is giving you one shot to redeem Hoover Dam, and this is it."

"I understand."

After departing, I brought House up on my Pip-Boy and told him everything. When I had finished, he was actually grinning.

"I must admit, I'm impressed, Cash," his grin faded immediately, "Both the Legion and the NCR agree to my ship idea, and neither are invading. Caesar is busy with Joshua Graham, and the NCR is aware of the fraudulent attack on my caravan. The only thing that is left, is to find out who is behind this," I felt my own face get serious, remembering that Boone might already be dead, "And you can attend to your own emotional duties. When you return, we will be set for some weeks. The NCR will be unable to attack Nevada without suffering serious losses, now that my Securitrons and Great Khans are patrolling the border, and my army, the White Hand, is properly armed. What's left, is to start mass producing my Securitrons, so these ragged ex drug users and technology sycophants are not my only sources of defense. When you return, head to Big Mountain, and relax. While you're there, oversee the production, and I will be content. The Kings have New Vegas under control, and the Boomers have nothing to report out of the ordinary. All is well at the moment, Cash, see to it that this new faction does not change that."

I nodded. "I understand. Whoever they are, I'm going to kill them all."

House's face seemed as if he was grimacing slightly, as if picturing something in his brilliant mind.

"I would not want to be in their shoes when you get there."


	5. The Fourth Faction

_The Sink, Big Mountain._

_7:35 am, April 3, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

We, all eight of us, landed in the Sink's main room, where my AI unit was.'

With a nod, I led my group past my "theatre room" and into the small room where my organs used to be contained in jars. Now, the walls were lined with guns, ammo, melee weapons, and bombs. On a three-tier shelf by the door, various armors were folded neatly for display.

Raul let out a low whistle. "Damn, boss. This is a lot of hardware."

"Yeah," Manny Vargas put in, "How'd you get all this? There must be a hundred guns in here."

Cass held up a hand, "I was with him for a few of these, you don't want to know."

ED-E beeped something incomprehensible. Veronica chuckled, holding up a Power Fist with tribal markings. "I remember when you let me punch that bandit in the face with this. Remember, over by Camp Golf?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Follows-Chalk cut me off, "Is that the glove that Salt-Upon-Wounds wore when he attacked my people?" he fixed me with a glare of hurt, "I thought he was not killed. That is what you and Joshua told my people, and the Sorrows."

I held up a hand, "Easy, Chalk. Yes, he was left alive, but we fought him, as we said, and I took his Power Fist to remind him of his defeat," the Zion native eased, his accusation leaving his face embarrassed, "And as for our little...trip to Camp Golf, Veronica, I'm not sure I could forget it."

Both Cass and Arcade (who was retrieving his Gannon Family Tesla Armor from the shelf) shot me quizzical looks, but I ignored them. Veronica hid a smile. "Everyone pick a gun and some armor, because this is going to be crazy. I've got a plan, but it involves a lot of shooting. Vargas, take the Anti-Material Rifle, you'll need the firepower."

"Right," he nodded, grabbing the rifle off its mount, "Bringing out the fifty."

"Cass, grab the Dinner Bell, you'll need something heavier than your Caravan shotgun. Arcade, take the Gatling Laser. Raul, there's a revolver labeled 'Mysterious Magnum' over by the pistols, it's yours for this mission. Chalk, I've got a lot of really cool melee weapons, help yourself. Veronica, grab that grenade launcher, put sticky mines in it. We might need it. You guys feel free to grab whatever else you want."

I left my group to arm themselves, stepping into the main room, then through the doorway and into the Think Tank, where House's top scientists from the Followers of the Apocalypse were busy developing their various projects. I pressed the door pad, walking briskly across the spacious laboratory floor.

"Arnold" I called, seeking the man who was in charge when I was not around, "Bring up my project, it's time to field test it."

I was Head Scientist, and also the overseer of military operations. Arnold was the Chief Medical Professor. The man was of Asian descent, and easily a foot shorter than me. He stomped out of his office, garbed in his white lab coat and glasses. "Yes, Dr. Cash, your suit will be brought in by one of your fucked up mechanical beasts you call a Securitron."

Normally, I would have been irritated at his disrespect for the protection House and I gave him, but his medical knowledge was extensive, and we _needed_ the Followers on our side. I remained silent, nodding instead. As we waited, I noticed that Frank Parker, our Food and Drink specialist, was staring intently at a small phial of bubbling yellow liquid. Curious, I strode over. "What've we got here, Professor?"

Peters, along with Arnold, didn't like me. "It's a drink."

"What's it called?"

The man sighed. "I found an ancient blueprint for what is called, an ''Energy Drink''. I don't think it'll be ready for mass production for at least fifteen, twenty years. I don't know how we'd find the ingredients. It was called, in its day, Red Bull."

I nodded, interested. "Well, I'll try some when we get back. Or, make one of my lobotomites try it."

Peters despised my lobotomies (all of whom I took from NCR and House's prisons, only if they had committed horrendous crimes) which I often made fight in my arena for their freedom.

"I could do that."

I extended a hand, which he reluctantly shook.

I stood patiently, fiddling with my thumbs until I saw a Securitron wheel its way down the stairs, a long black box in hand. I grinned eagerly, desperately hoping that my months of effort, scattered over the course of a year due to House's frequent assignments, had not gone to waste. The Securitron placed the box on the table in front of me, removing the lid. Inside, was a suit of Chinese Stealth Armor. Though, I reminded myself with a grin, it was no ordinary Stealth Armor. I'd spent the time I wasn't using on the Food Sanitizer project, to mix the cloaking technology of a Stealth Boy, to my second suit of Chinese armor. The result, so I first thought, was disastrous. Instead of bending ambient light around my suit, creating permanent cloaking, I'd come up with nothing. So, I took the Stealth Suit MKII that I'd earned here at Big MT, and used that as the body glove underneath the Chinese-Stealth Boy Armor. The result, to my astonishment, sat before me.

Perfection.

The suit, now, was more or less a chameleon suit. Using the unique fibrous design as the body glove from the old MKII suit, the new armor would be silent when I moved, and adapt to the temperature around me, while also hiding my heat signature from any thermal technology. With the durability of both suits combined, its damage threshold was a single point higher than my Enclave Power Armor. And, with the Stealth Boy malfunction, it now created digi-camo of whatever environment I was in by absorbing ambient light and reflecting it. This, I finally realized, would be better than being invisible, where I could still be picked up by thermal imagery. I slipped the armor on, marveling at the flexibility and comfort. While holding the basic appearance of the Chinese Stealth armor, I knew it was better tenfold, and I'd never find a better substitute. Not for a long time, anyways.

The helmet design was the same, except now it transitioned to a grey-white digital print, matching the lab. I donned it, my eyes tracking the new HUD that my team had implemented.

"It's perfect," I whispered, moving through a simulated karate kick, "It's absolutely amazing."

"Yes," Arnold drawled, "And you'll have ample time to test it with your lobotomites, which I'm ordered to inform you, that House sent three more here, and we'll have their brains swapped by nightfall."

I shook my head, "No," Arnold looked surprised, "Take the rest of the time off until I return. If I die, then House will notify you, and in which case you only get a week. Good work, men."

I jogged out of the Think Tank, back into the Sink, where my group was waiting. They all "ooohed" and "Aaaahed" as I approached.

"Nice," Manny Vargas said, adjusting the straps on some Van Graff Combat armor, "First Recon would love to have that."

Cass walked over with my weapons, and eyed me up, "You look like a color-lizard."

I nodded, taking my katana and strapping it onto my back, "That's the idea."

I belted my Defender and A Light Shining in Darkness onto my thighs, slipping Maria (fitted with a silencer) in the back of my belt, and my Hunting Rifle across my back. In my hands, I had Sleepytime, a custom ten-millimeter sub-machine gun, fitted with a silencer.

I looked at my team, my friends, each wearing better armor than they were accustomed to, and armed with the Wasteland's best. We were ready to go find Boone.

"Okay," I said, each of us putting a hand in the center of the circle we formed, "When we get to the Outpost, we'll take a Vertibird out to the base. Chalk, you'll track the trail from there, and then we'll find the base. Once we're there, I'll set up an antenna so we can teleport out, and back to the Outpost with my Transportalponder. I've never done it before, so we'll have to all be holding one another tight. Once we're at the base, Manny and I will take up sniping positions, while Cass, Arcade, and Raul draw their fire from us. Once all hell breaks loose, we can have Veronica and Chalk join the fray, but not until then. You guys are more melee fighters, and you'll only get picked off from a distance," They all nodded, each with a stone face, "Listen, once the shit hits the fan, and we've got them guessing how many people are out there, hold positions. Take cheap shots, corner them in groups, but do not fight them head on. We have no idea how many there are. I'll sneak in, find Craig, and get out. Once I regroup with you guys, I'll go back in, and kill this leader, whoever he is, and find some form of proof that he framed the NCR and the Legion."

They each nodded, not speaking.

I held out the little teleporter gun.

"Let's go get Boone."

...

...

_Somewhere in Arizona, Predator's Camp_

_11:16 pm, April 3, 2284_

_Joshua Graham_

The Legion had been framed, so had the NCR.

That was what I learned after my fight with Vulpes Incata. During the interrogation, which was quite painful, he knew nothing of the Legion being assigned to attack such a caravan. The memory of the realization stuck in my mind...

_ I pressed the hot fire poker to his scalp, receiving a shriek of agony in return._

_ "Why did the NCR pay Caesar to attack my caravan, Incata?"_

_ My voice was calm, cold. Experienced._

_ The Frumentarii writhed in pain. "You miserable fuck," he spat at my feet, a brave gesture, "Caesar would never consort with the NCR. Even someone as fucking retarded as yourself knows that."_

_ I touched him with the iron again, ignoring his pleas. "They did, Frumentarii. I found the orders on a dead Legionnaire. We both know Caesar likes to have documentation, it feeds his ego and cements his deeds in history."_

_ Incata shook a miserable tear from his face, refusing to show weakness. "Did it ever occur to you, that it was fake? That our mighty Caesar would not be so foolish as to leave proof of his next attack in the hands of a common soldier?"_

_ I shook my head, and branded him again._

It was then that I knew he was right. Caesar was many things, but not unintelligent. He would _never_ have left the paper trail for me to find. He had been set up.

I'd constructed this army for nothing. To leave them leaderless was wrong, I knew. Though these men owed _me._ I gave them freedom, I gave them revenge on Caesar. It was time for me to make my escape, and head back to Zion. Back to where I belonged.

To God's land.

I grabbed my bag containing my few belongings, and pushed my tent flap open, stepping into the warm, moonlit night.

_John Cash will have to understand, that I had to go back to Zion._

...

...

_Somewhere in Southern California, Benny's camp_

_Early Morning, April 4, 2284_

_Craig Boone_

I'd been dragged from my cell, up a lot of stairs, and then tied to a chair.

Wherever I was, I could feel the sun on my chest. The heat wasn't stifling, not like midday, so it was either evening or morning. I guessed morning, as I'd eaten then slept a long while, and it had been my last meal since. Judging by the tightness of my binds, it might have been my last meal. I had the feeling I was about to be executed. Perhaps I was outside, being watched by Benny and my interrogator. I didn't know, nor did I care. By my reckoning, I'd been here for two or three days. Each day, the interrogator would return, I'd give him smartass answers, and he'd beat the daylights out of me like it was going out of style. At the current moment, I thought I had a broken orbital bone, two teeth missing in the back right, a broken nose, at least four broken ribs (three on one side, one on the other), and a knee that might not ever be right again after a particularly vicious series of blows it took from what I thought to be a baseball bat.

Benny's guy had fucked me up pretty good.

I heard a door close behind me, echoing slightly off the walls. My mind went into computer mode.

_About five-ten, one sixty, one seventy. Wearing boots, about size ten. The room echoed slightly, mostly above me. At least a fifteen foot ceiling. Floor feels like concrete._

"Craig, baby," the voice, obviously Benny's, said from behind me, "You're a tough cat, no doubt there. But, as you might have guessed, we gotta be smooth about this."

My blindfold was torn off, the first time in days. I squinted at the light, but couldn't take my eyes off Benny.

The first time I'd seen him, he'd walked a good part of the Mojave, but his checkered suit and black hair had both been well groomed. He'd had a fair face, no facial hair, and startling white teeth. Benny was living the high life of a casino owner in New Vegas.

That was not the case here.

He'd retained his flair for dress, his leather armor painted with white and blue tribal and accented with yellow trim, but his hair was disheveled. A thin black mask of a stubble beard wrapped around his face, and his teeth had begun to yellow, although faintly. Even in exile, Benny pulled off the wasteland look pretty well.

"Yeah, not how I used to look, eh?" he smoothed his hair back, though it returned immediately to its previous state, "But I've still got it upstairs, baby," he tapped the side of his head, and walked a few steps away.

I looked around the room, which was all concrete.

There was a narrow opening that ran the length of three walls of the room, showing sunlight the whole way. Two stone pillars held the ceiling up in the center of the room, ten feet apart. Along the back wall, a battered wooden door was mounted without a frame.

_Like a pillbox...except it's too high off the ground. I must be in a tower._

Benny leaned against the window, spitting out over the edge.

"You see," he said, throwing on a handsome grin, "I've got a few minutes of spare time. And I plan on killing you, but I have this...idea. My idea involves the dramatic, see. So I'm going to tell you everything you need to know, so you can tell Cash when he gets here, ya dig baby?"

Benny grabbed a chair from beside him, and set it in front of me. He plopped down in it, putting his feet up on the window ledge. "Listen up. You know the story about Cash and I, of course. He told you all about it, no doubt. Well, the cat shoots me with my own sweet Maria in old Baldy's Fort, and tosses my ass in the Colorado. Well, apparently me and Ka-Ching have some fuzz in common. I didn't die, not even after four rounds to the ole ticker," He smiled wide, like the story was humorous, and held up four fingers, "Yeah, he really got the slip on me there. Well, I woke up on some dingy old shack. The people there nursed me back to health, and then I killed them, and picked this little game up from where it left off, cha feel? You've been tied up, of course, but you should see it, Ranger. I've got three hundred guys down there. Ex Legion, ex NCR, some Vipers, some Jackals, got a few of those fly ass Powder Gangers, and even a dozen Super Mutants," He lost the smile, his face becoming instantly dark, "I _won_ them, Boone. I did things no man should ever have to, for their trust," He threw his smile back on, "And then, I get this idea: Why don't I get back at Cash, now that I'm well off? So, I learned that the Legion called the NCR 'westmen', and went from there. I got a few of my guys to head off to follow an old caravan that I knew the NCR used to send north to New Canaan, to get myself some supplies.

"Get this, baby: House owns it now. So, I had my guys kill them off, and one of them die there with a phony bologna note that framed the NCR as hiring the Legion to do it. I thought for sure Cash would be on that case like a fly on a Brahmin, dig? But for some reason he didn't. So, I wanted to get you. I knew you'd bring him here, that cat's got some creepy love for you, brother. I ended up taking that Ranger's kids, and said I'd pay him for taking you out, and bringing you here. Get it? I pay _him_, to get you, and the money for the deal was his kids!" Benny took a moment and laughed, only increasing my desire to kill him.

"Then I shot him, and crucified his kids. See, if he tried to run, they died, so he acted like a good little dog. But he was a smart cookie, he knew that I was going to kill him either way, so he thought that once I paid him, if he just agreed to walk away, he'd be fine. Moron, as if I'd be so dumb. Last I heard, Johnny boy was on his way here, with a group of misfits. So," Benny clapped me on the shoulder, "Now you, Craig Boob, know the whole story. Yeah, I know your name isn't really Boob, but I like it better. Your bald head kinda looks like a boob... Anyway, There's a bomb under the chair you're in, and I'll blow it the second Johnny gets in here to save you. So, get this, you both die, and I can go back to House and do away with him," He scooted the chair closer, so his face was inches from mine, "Guess what? I know where it is," He grinned darkly, "ARCHIMEDES. I found it. One of the Vipers said that they saw Cash, a ghoul, you, and two others take it north. Then, I happen to have an ex Happy Trails guard walk into my midst. He told me about a secret place, one that's really well protected by some tribals: Zion Canyon. That's where he took it, Boob. He put it where nobody would be smart enough to find it."

Benny stood again, and made his way to the door. As he twisted the handle, he turned back to me, grinning again, "Oh, and Boob? I'm going to blow up the Strip. And then, this is my favorite part, I'm gonna head to the Divide, and take over this neat little silo that's there, full of nuclear missiles. See, there was a guy there, used to be Legion. He was my brother. Just happens to turn out that Cash killed him."

Benny closed the door, plunging me into silence, and my own thoughts.

...

...

_Southern California, Outside Benny's Camp_

_9:18 am, April 5, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

There was no way we'd make it back to Joshua by tomorrow.

It'd taken us two days, even with Follows-Chalk on the trail, to find out where Boone's kidnappers had taken him. My guess is that the Legion was behind it, as the trail was covered far too well for ordinary bandits to handle.

After two days in the dust, we'd found it.

Nestled on a plateau flanked by the Grand Canyon, what looked like an old NCR outpost had been well hidden. A twenty foot wall of rock surrounded the camp on three sides, and the front was facing the river. The only way in, or out, was by traversing a narrow trail that wound through the rock wall, leading into the rear of the camp.

We, all of my group, were now lying on a hill, looking across the wasteland at this base, our position slightly elevated.

"That's a sweet setup," Cass remarked, checking the ammo in the Dinner Bell.

Manny Vargas seemed irritated, "That's an old camp we used to train recruits in. I was trained there before I was shipped out to First Recon school. It was abandon after too many recruits were killed by deathclaws that lived hills outside the walls.

"Those walls are natural?" I asked, curious.

Manny shrugged, "No, not really. Before the Great War, the military of this country built those walls out of concrete, and then layered them with mud to conceal them. The drill instructors told us that they used to slant outward, like a ramp, and that a roof was overhead of the entire base. After the bombs fell, it collapsed, and deathclaws remodeled it. Then the NCR took what remained, and made it into a boot camp."

I nodded, impressed. The layout was simple: two rows of barracks intersected by a single street, and at the end of the street were two more buildings. In between those buildings, was a tower, roughly fifty feet up, with an octagonal head. Around the top, a narrow window wrapped the entire length, no doubt for snipers. Down in the base, men scurried about.

About three hundred of them.

I forced myself not to scoff at our shit luck.

Raul let out a low whistle. "Damn, boss. How you expect us to get in there?"

I shot him a look. "The plan still stands. Manny and I will be on either side of that entry trail, and we'll fire into the camp. You, Cass, and Arcade can run in guns-a-blazing and keep them guessing how many are here. Then, Veronica and Chalk will scale the far wall, behind the tower, and start planting C4 and...punch someone. We move once Manny takes the first shot."

Chalk raised a hand, "John, I'm good with my pistol. I should help these ones," he pointed to Cass, Arcade, and Raul.

I sighed. I'd forgotten he had a pistol, and how good he was with it.

"Alright, fine," I tried not to seem irritated, "You do that. Veronica, you plant the bombs on the tower, those two buildings, and then get your ass back out. Once you've blown the area, I'll creep in and find Boone."

"You know," Arcade said through his Tesla helmet, "He's probably in one of the buildings by the tower. They look like jail cells."

"No," Manny began, "The jail is that last building on the right, next to the barracks. Those two buildings are the officers' barracks, and the armory."

"What the hell is that, in the middle?" I asked, pointing at a tall fence in the center of the camp.

Manny frowned then pointed his rifle at the camp, scanning through the scope.

"Damn," he whispered, "It's a pit."

"Great, that clears it up. No worries, it's a pit." Veronica put in sarcastically.

Manny glared at her. "It's filled with deathclaws. At least we know where they went."

I grimaced, imagining all the reasons to have captive deathclaws.

Cass sighed, shaking her head. "Johnny, we can't take all these guys by ourselves. Once you and Vargas start pecking away at them, they'll shoot at you. That's where we come in, us four. Yeah, we start blazing away, and they have a two front war. Then the Brotherhood girl blows up the tower, and then you go after Boone. Then what?"

I knew one of them would get there, to the hole in my plan.

"You keep them held off until I get Boone."

Arcade removed his helmet, wiping sweat from his brow. "Cash, we'll be outgunned in seconds. Your plan is flawless, if we had ten times the guys. We have seven guys. We need at least fifty to pull something like this off."

I pounded a gloved fist against the hill. She was right, and we'd be fucked unless...

"Manny, did you take that emergency radio that Kimball gave you?"

He frowned, then removed his bag and began searching it. After a few moments, he pulled out a transponder. "Yeah, looks like it works."

I grinned, and Cass and Veronica both sighed. "Kimball said that we had the NCR behind us. Manny, radio them and tell them we need a full battalion to come to..."

"Recruit Training Base Washington," he said, finishing my sentence.

"Right. Send them here, and get an ETA."

He nodded, then keyed the radio. After a brief moment, he began talking into it.

Veronica rolled over to me, and placed a hand on my arm. "How many men are in an NCR Battalion?"

"Three hundred, usually. I figure they can be here sooner than House, I just hope they actually come."

Veronica laughed, "The NCR's always a day late and a dollar short."

I chuckled, "I know."

Vargas stowed the radio back in his bag. "They're sending the entire group from Camp Redwing, about a hundred miles from here. ETA two hours. I told them who was on our side, so they know not to fire on us."

I clapped him on the shoulder, and grinned. "Alright, awesome. We wait here for an hour and a half, then we move in. By the time Veronica blows the tower, the NCR will run in guns hot and cover our asses."

...

...

I quietly scaled the rocky wall, on the West side. Manny was on the North, and Veronica making her way around the South. So far, none of sentries had noticed us. A whopping four men sat camped on the walls, smoking and lazily waiting for someone to come along. One I we started laying down sniper fire, we'd have to take them out so we didn't get flanked. I eased my boot into a crevice for grip, marveling as the light that bounced off the sandstone turned my entire suit a light, reddish brown. Through my helmet, I saw one of the sentries, a man in a battered NCR uniform, stand up off the rocks, stretching his legs and groaning.

"Fucking back is killing me. I'm going to talk to B about getting a better shift."

_Who the hell is B? Never mind, I don't even care._

I drew Maria with her silencer, giddy at the fact that my HUD instantly logged the pistol by name, and showed its ammo count. I took aim on the man's chest, and squeezed off two rounds that connected near his heart with a crimson spray. The gun barked with a _snap-hiss_, and the sentry collapsed forward, rolling past me and laying still at the bottom of the wall. I belted Maria, and pulled my hunting rifle off my back, pulling the strap tight and crawling to the top of the wall. Once I could see over it and into the camp, without actually being on the top (so I wasn't an obvious body laying on the rocks) I set the rifle down, scanning the area. I cast a glance into Manny's area, waiting for him. He'd be another minute or two before he fired, no doubt. Veronica still had to make it across to the other side, and scale the wall. I checked the clock on my Pip-Boy, anticipating the NCR roaring in and taking over the situation. _11:12_.

I scowled. Manny radioed them at about nine-thirty, and I'm sure they were gearing up to leave within minutes. We still had fifteen, twenty minutes before they came knocking.

_BOOM._

Manny's first shot caused me to jump, peeling my helmet and taking aim through my own scope. My crosshairs fell on a Super Mutant with a minigun, who was charging over to where a soldier was lying facedown, his head nearly gone. I exhaled slowly, and loosed a round. The kick of the rifle was but a split second before the red spray that erupted from the left eye of the Super Mutant, who dropped heavily. Instant panic ensued around the two bodies. I panned around, searching for enemy snipers. Most of these men looked like they were deserters from the Mojave. _There's a group of Jackals, there's some Vipers...yeah, those are Legion and NCR, probably deserters...and Super Mutants... That guy I just peeled was definitely a Powder Ganger._

I racked up four more headshots, shooting at anyone and everyone, the whole while desperately curious who this leader was. I turned my rifle on the tower, the obvious leader's lookout, and scanned the windows. A man had his back to the opening, wearing leather armor painted blue, white, and yellow with what appeared to be tribal designs...

I took aim on the his head, which was adorned with short, spiky black hair.

I exhaled slowly, preparing for the shot.

When the man reached down, and pulled something into view.

It was Craig Boone.

Craig Boone tied to a chair.

His face was beaten pretty bad, and the man punched him again, opening a fresh cut beneath his left eye. The man in the leather disappeared, and I stared at Boone through my scope.

_He's alive_, I thought gratefully,_...until Veronica blows that tower!_

I turned the scope down to the wall behind it. Veronica was climbing back up, grenade launcher in hand. She scrambled to the top of the wall, and lay on her back, taking aim at the tower head.

_No..._

She fired three times, each mine most likely landing.

_I have to stop her,_ I thought savagely, _Boone's my brother._ I set the crosshairs on her, then raised them up, as Boone had taught me. _Her or Craig..._ She was six hundred yards out, easily. I couldn't make that shot...

Veronica pressed the detonator button, and both buildings were eviscerated, leaving behind a pair of flaming wreckages. She pulled a second detonator, and pressed that button.

The entire back of the tower exploded, raining down debris onto the wall. Veronica dove for it, vanishing from sight.

_No!_

"Motherfucker!," I roared, no longer caring if I was spotted, "Craig!"

Below me, two Legionnaire deserters saw me, and drew their machetes. _They put him in there. And now he's dead._

I slung my rifle onto my back, drawing A Light Shining in Darkness, slamming my helmet onto my head.

I dropped them both, the concept of an honorable fight lost under a wave of rage.

Cass, Raul, Chalk, and Arcade were leveling fire into the camp from the trail, catching most of the infantry off guard. I pounded towards the tower.

_The front is still intact, he might have made it._

Four Vipers took aim on me and I cut them down with my forty-five. A group of infantry, thirty or so, all spun to see me at the same time.

We stared at one another. Them at me. Me at them.

One of them, a Jackal, slowly raised his Cowboy Repeater.

I folded three up before taking cover behind an Old World car, bullets plinking off the other side. I emptied my magazine blindly, reducing some of the fire. I reloaded, and peered around the edge. Most of the men had formed a ring, and were closing in. The others stayed back, taking potshots with rifles. I landed six headshots, and missed with the last round. Empty, I stowed the pistol back on my thigh, and drew my Defender. I peered around again, and scanned the environment for something to cover my escape. _I have to make myself scarce._

There was a man with a Flamer approaching, near the center of the ring.

_Nice._

I took aim and fired, the green plasma bolt striking home.

The tanks exploded with devastating force, hurling scorched bodies in every direction.

I pulled a grenade off my belt, and clipped it to the side of my Defender. Pulling the pin, I dropped it at my feet. I tore off towards the tower, weaving between barracks where the soldiers of this bastard army had taken up positions, firing on my forward four gunners. Behind me, I heard my pistol wipe out the side of a building, scattering debris into the defending troops. I pulled Sleepytime off my back, charging through the camp.

Most of the soldiers were focused on the blizzard of lasers pouring in from Arcade's Gatling, and slipping around them was easier than I thought. Still, there were stragglers. I clipped one man with a three round burst that entered his right side, decimating his lungs. A second group of three fell prey to my SMG, each having their faces rearranged by a hail of bullets. I bounded past the last two buildings, ejecting my magazine and slapping in a fresh one. The tower was a hundred yards away, across an open space. _No buildings to use as cover..._

The entire army would see me make the run.

_Fuck it._ I darted out across the no-man's-land, hip firing at the rear of the army that had gathered in the center of the camp. I must've dropped fifteen, twenty easy before I loaded in a third mag, my last, and repeated the process. I dropped Sleepytime on the ground, and peeled my rifle as well to gain speed. Armed with nothing but Maria and my sword, I gave up fighting and just darted towards the tower. I saw a blur of movement to my right, and whirled on the spot, ready to empty my nine into their face.

It was Veronica, battered and bloody.

"Let's go!" she howled, firing behind us with a ten-millimeter pistol.

I nodded and pounded towards the tower, grateful she'd not been too badly hurt by the tower's falling chunks.

The tower door was ten feet away-

_Fuck, there's a padlock!_

I drew Maria, and emptied the clip on the lock before it broke loose and fell to the ground. Bullets were now landing all around me, peppering my suit with bits of concrete from the tower. I looked up, and saw that I was probably right: only the back of the tower had been hit by Veronica's bombs. I drew my Katana from my back, and ripped the door open.

In a split second, I saw a man standing there, in painted leather armor. His face had a stubbly black beard, and his spiky hair clearly used to be well groomed, creased and folded. On his handsome face, was a wide grin. And in his hands, was a sawed off twelve gauge.

Benny.

"Catch you fuckers at a bad time?"

He squeezed off both rounds, the first hitting Veronica in the chest, the second peeling me square in the face. I felt the impact tear my helmet off, and throw me easily ten feet across the ground. I lay there, unable to move, but still somehow alive. My ears were ringing, and my face was numb.

_My helmet... stopped the shot. But my neck should still be broken... The Stealth Suit MKII had a spine-guard!_

I saw Veronica laying on her back, coughing and spitting blood out onto her face. She frantically scratched at the Combat Armor MKII that protected her chest, which was now torn apart. Thin lines of blood trailed out of them, down her sides.

I knew she would die, and very soon.

Benny knelt down in front of me, and pulled Maria from my hand.

I couldn't move.

"Hey, baby. Nice of you to drop by. I see you've got my gun, which is good, I missed it."

He punched me, hard, in the face.

"Now, I'll let you lay here. Your special helmet protected your face, but your neck is broke. I've broken enough spines to know what it looks like, cat. You're finished. If you're still sucking air when my guys wipe out yours, I'll come do you myself. Chow, baby."

He rose, and vanished from my sight.

He turned and walked away, then stopped.

"Damn, Johnny boy, you're good. You got the NCR rolling in. But that's okay, they'll never get ahold of me. And besides, I've got another little pad just like this one. Eight Vertibirds, four hundred ex-cons who think I'm God himself, and your little toy. I'll be okay. Have fun, Money."

I felt a breath rush from my lungs as Benny departed with a goodbye kick, and my vision fade to black.

...

...

...

_I love writing in the Fallout: New Vegas Fandom. Check out my other work, and my best piece on FictionPress!_


	6. End Game

_Southern California, Benny's Camp_

_11:26 am, April 5, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

I suppose I should have counted my lucky stars for regaining feeling in my feet.

I, however, was still terrified at the idea of being paralyzed in a world that required me to be the top notch of physical and mental fitness.

Slowly, over the course of what I imagined were two minutes (it was hard to tell over the thunderous roar of gunfire from the northern edge of the camp, and the raging inferno of the Officer's Barracks less than a hundred yards from my head) I began to feel the pain in my legs, and then my back, and finally my arms. Benny's shot had for sure dislocated my jaw. Had I not been so loose, my body relaxed and prepared for a fight, I'm positive the shot would have torn my head clean off. It should have, after all. I've shot many a raider in the face point blank with a twelve gauge, and they sure as hell aren't around to talk about it. My only guess, would be that I was caught with a glancing shot, that Benny had jumped the trigger and actually fired between Veronica and I, and I had absorbed maybe half a shot. _No,_ I argued with myself,_ you took the full shot. He was just using cheap birdshot, and you got very, very lucky._

Yeah, that was probably it.

_Get your ass up and kill that motherfucker._

I clenched my fist, the tips of my fingers still numb. It was a start. With great effort, I bent my elbow, but couldn't muster the strength to push myself upright. _I'm stuck here until the NCR can scoop me up,_ I thought miserably, knowing that by then Boone and Veronica would both be dead.

I felt a burn in my right shoulder, like a needle being forced into my skin. A mechanical voice sounded through my helmet, which was a dozen feet away. It was faint, and muffled by the distant shootout, but I managed to catch it nonetheless.

"Stimpack injected. Reserves low."

_The Stealthsuit MKII... it had an Auto Doc system...would feed stimpacks through the fibers, and directly into my skin..._

I felt my arm get stronger, more confident. I rolled myself over onto my back, hot blood from a cut above my eye streaking down my cheek.

"Stimpack injected. You have no more stimpacks."

I groaned as the fibrous needles poked my back, the area that was sure to have the most damage.

My reflexes kicked my legs out. I hurled myself back onto my side, placing an arm underneath me. I pushed myself to an all-fours position. _Yes..._

I crawled over to Veronica, placing a shaking hand on her chest. Her eyes were open, vaguely focused on me. The shot had been birdshot, as I'd thought, and hadn't gone all the way through, not all of the BBs at least. Had he been using standard buckshot, we'd both be goners, smears on the ground. "John," she whispered, grabbing my hand, "I got hit, didn't I?"

I hid a grimace, seeing that a few pellets had indeed punched through. They looked like flesh wounds, but I couldn't be certain.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound confident. I squeezed her hand, "You'll be alright, V. The NCR is here, they'll patch you up."

She smiled, and closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, I could tell she was fading. Her focus just a little to my right. "Go kill him, Johnny. Get Boone, I'll be alright. I'm just going to lay here for a while."

I lightly slapped the side of her face, bringing her back into focus. "Hey," I said loudly, my own body aching from the effort, "You stay with me, you hear? I'm not losing you. We're family, V. You stick it out, and I'll buy you the best dress in Freeside, alright?"

She smiled, and patted the back of my hand, "You've got a deal, Cash," She pushed my hand off her, "Go. Go get Boone."

I forced a tear out of my eye, wishing I didn't have to choose between Veronica and Craig. _Your friends, they're all you've got. But Craig, he's like family._

I looked behind me, at the spot where my sword had slipped off my back.

I set my helmet on Veronica's stomach, over the wound. "Don't you die on me, Veronica. I'll come back for you, I promise. Okay?"

She smiled, then winced in pain. "Go, dammit."

I forced myself to my feet, my legs feeling much stronger after the stimpacks had set in. I hobbled over, grabbed my sword, and then made for the door. When my hand made contact with the tower, I looked back at Veronica. She was still breathing, but I'd have to do this fast. I let out a war cry of pure rage, punching the door frame with such fury that I chipped away a half inch section of concrete.

_Benny's going to die for this._

I pounded up the stairs, adrenaline washing away the fatigue of being shot in the face point blank with a shotgun. As I'd expected, I met a Legion Decanus on the spiraling steps, holding a spear and a machete.

"A profligate like you cannot be allowed to disgrace our general with your presence."

I didn't respond, acutely aware that he had head protection and I did not. Though it didn't matter. I was The Man in Black.

I ducked a spear jab, swatting it away with the crossguard of my katana, and touched him on the hip with the razor's edge. He howled, and backpedaled. I lazily sidestepped a downward machete slash, prancing forward like a jaguar, driving my sword hilt deep into his solar plexus.

The man sputtered, and rolled down the stairs off the end of my blade.

I flicked my sword, removing some of the blood from the end. Above me, I heard the thunder of feet.

"Get down there and kill him!" Benny roared.

At least ten people were hurdling down towards me.

I assumed a two handed stance in the spacious stairway, ready for the worst.

As the men, a various mix of NCR, Jackals, and Powder Gangers, stumbled into view, I watched the wave of fear tear through them.

I saw their faces, the faces of prey. I was the hunter here.

I was Johnny Cash.

"You boys just stepped into one hell of a ring of fire."

I darted forward, blade flashing in the sunlight that shone through the windows.

...

...

_Southern California, Benny's Camp_

_11:44 am, April 5, 2284_

_Private First Class Adam Sienne, NCR Trooper, Camp Redwing, 3__rd__ Infantry_

We'd arrived at the old boot camp via Verti-Crate (a sort of shipping crate towed beneath a Vertibird), which was an experimental form of travel, never before tested. Since Redwing was one of the three Air Force bases (previously four, now three since House took over McCarran), we'd had just enough Vertibirds to pull this off. Judging by the fact that many, including mine, had detached upon landing and dropped us thirty feet, I doubted it'd be one we continued using. Most of the time, when the NCR army moved from one place or another, we traveled on foot or by the trucks that used to be repaired at McCarran Airport (returned to us by House after Hoover Dam), through a series of checkpoints from point A to B. Here, we needed a fast travel method, and apparently this was Major Polatli's, previous CO of Camp Forlorn Hope, best idea. After we'd landed, me and the other fifty troopers bailed out, rifles poised and ready. Turns out that this place had only one entrance, and that was a small trail that wound through the walls. Me and my men had decided, fuck that obvious bottleneck, and had taken up position on the tops of the rocky wall, firing down in at the mass of bandits below.

So far, we'd taken some casualties, eight out of my group, of which I was the highest rank.

"Fire on those barracks," I roared, "Keep them pinned down so they can't hit breathe!"

I fired three rounds, unsure if I'd even hit anyone. Beside me, a stream of Gatling Laser fire took out two of my men, reducing one to ashes. _Fuck,_ I thought, searching around in the crowd for the culprit, _They've got serious firepower._

I fired a few more times in the general direction of wherever I thought the soldiers might be hiding...maybe. From this distance, about two hundred yards, it wasn't really about hitting anyone, so much as pinning them down until we leveled the base. I turned my head to look behind me, rounds zinging past my helmet, and shouted, "Rogriss! Get your ass up here with that missile launcher, ASAP!"

I heard a vague "Yes, sir!", but ignored it. I returned fire back down into the camp. Farther down, on the west wall, an explosion tossed a dozen NCR soldiers skyward, blood and gore raining down on their comrades. I cast a panicked glance down into the enemy camp, instantly noticing three men huddled around a trio of missile launchers exactly like the one Rogriss was about to bring to bear.

I saw enemy forces hiding out behind an Old World truck, firing accurately on our position. "Third infantry," I bellowed to as many as could hear me, "Fire on that truck, flush em out!"

I emptied my magazine, ejecting it and slapping in a fresh one.

_This is going to be a long one._

...

...

_Southern California, Benny's Camp_

_11:36 am, April 5, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

"Fuck you!" I spat, tugging my blade free of the last stairway guard.

I wiped spattered blood off my face with my gloved hand, failing miserably and instead smearing it. I panted heavily, and turned to look behind me. After the first group, a second team of three Nightkin and a Super Mutant had tried their luck. They'd been the easiest, actually. After I killed the first group, I searched their bodies for ammo, and found two full magazines of forty-five shells. I filled A Light Shining in Darkness, and then used all the rounds to put down the mutants. Scavenging a rather nice Cowboy Repeater, I loaded it up (a little irritated that there were only seven shots) and sheathed my sword. I held the rifle, holstering my forty-five, and booted the door open that led to the tower head.

Benny stood in front of Boone, holding Maria to his head, and an obvious detonator in the other.

"Hey, Big Money made it through my guards!"

I took aim on his face, preparing to remove it and then sew it back on upside down.

"Easy, Johnny boy," he cooed, his smooth voice making me want to pull his teeth one by one and force them up his ass while he was conscious all the while, "This is a dead-man's switch," he wiggled the detonator, "You kill me, the bomb under Boob's chair goes off. Boob...I know, I like it. But all the same, baby, you shoot me, and this goes off."

I glared at him, and for a moment considered shooting the detonator, hoping it would _not_ set off the bomb that _might_ be under Craig's chair.

_You didn't come all this way, watch Veronica die, just to fuck it up here._

I threw the rifle across the room. "God damn you, Benny."

Benny laughed, and pointed Maria at me. "I really don't know how you do it. I've shot you in the head, twice now, at point blank range."

He squeezed the trigger, the bullet ricocheting off my suit, knocking the wind out of me. "Damn, Cash, that's some real armor you got there. I'll enjoy using it while I bring House to the ground. I'm kinda mad at you two, ya dig?"

I hit the ground, gasping on all fours, clutching what I knew was a broken rib.

I looked up at Benny, determined to kill him with my mind. Instead, my eyes fell on Boone, who was sitting awkwardly in the chair. Between his legs, I saw the bottom of the seat.

There was no bomb.

_Fucking fake...Don't let on that you know, or you're a dead man._

"Benny," I choked, my voice raspy and shaking with hate. I met his eyes, "I'm going to cut your fucking throat."

Benny sighed dramatically, and loosed another round from Maria with a _snap-hiss_ of the silencer. The bullet struck me in the thigh, again bouncing off my armor. I was positive that a basketball sized bruise formed instantly. I clenched my teeth, my breath escaping in a strangled hiss of agony.

"No, you're not."

I looked to my left, at the open door that led to the stairs. I could hear voices below...Arcade, Cass, definitely Raul.

"Friends of yours?" Benny asked, his shit eating grin still present.

I spat blood out onto the concrete floor, and muscled my way to a standing position.

"Just your wife and your sisters, looking for payment for the other night."

Benny glared at me, then chuckled. "Never had any sisters, and mom was dead when I was just a babe," His charming face immediately shadowed, his eyes becoming the dark, twisted orbs I usually saw in Caesar's Centurions, men who'd done terrible things to get to their seats of power. Men with black souls. "I had a brother, though. An older one. He had about ten years on me, ended up being one of Caesar's best. After a while, he headed for the Divide. On his way, he passed through New Vegas, gave me a radio frequency to reach him on. Said that if he ever didn't respond, he was dead," Benny pulled the hammer back on Maria, glaring at me with unseen hate, "You killed him, John. You killed my brother, Ulysses."

_No fucking way._

I stared back at him, but the truth of his words were beyond obvious in his eyes. "He fought like a champion, a true warrior," I acknowledged grudgingly, "He tried to blow up everything that's left with some nukes, and I killed him for it. Our fight...it was legendary. I'm not sure two people have ever had such a face-off."

Benny avoided my eyes, then returned his smile and handsome features, "Well, aint that touching? Even after all that, you got respect. That's classy, baby. Real swingin attitude. But you and I," he grinned darkly, "We're going to settle this. I need those nukes, Cash. With them and another little plan of mine, which Boob here will tell you right before I cut your heart out, I'm going to own the NCR, and House, and the Legion," He fixed me with a hungry stare, "I'm going to be God."

_He doesn't know..._

I laughed openly, one lone bark devoid of mirth. "Benny, you fucking moron," I bored into his eyes with mine, "I _disabled_ those nukes in the Divide. They'll _never_ fire again. After I took out their actual bomb components, I locked them away in a very safe location. Even if you could get them, you'd search for fifty years trying to find someone who could reconstruct a rocket for them," The smile on Benny's face began to fade, "I outclassed you, again, Benny."

Benny fired again, this landing solid in the wall next to the door. "Tell your friends to hold tight, and be smooth, smooth like silk."

I kicked the door closed, pulling the deadbolt across it.

"I saw the underside of the chair, dumbass. There's no bomb."

Benny's grin faded, but he did not continue the ruse. He tossed the detonator out the window.

I slowly unbelted my pistol, and kicked it across the room, followed by my katana. Even that slight movement killed my leg and ribs. "Let's finish this, Benny. Me and you."

Benny grinned again, "I'm down."

He tossed Maria across the room, holding his hands out at his sides.

"Let's dance, Johnny Boy."

...

...

_Southern California, Benny's Camp_

_11:52 am, April 5, 2284_

_Rose of Sharon Cassidy_

"Son of a bitch!" I shouted, kicking the door again.

It wouldn't budge. Johnny didn't want us helping him, the damn fool.

I whirled around, facing Arcade and Raul. "He won't let us in. He's going to kill that guy all on his own."

Raul dropped the empty shells from his revolver, and loaded in new ones. "So, what do we do?"

Arcade peeled his helmet, and blinked a trickle of blood from his eyes. "I'm out of rounds, for everything. All I've got are my good intentions. Why don't we run back down, and haul Veronica in here. I can look her over and see what I can do."

I nodded. Arcade had been with the Followers for years.

"Alright, let's go. It's all we can do at the moment."

I turned my head to the sound of shouts and crashes coming from the other side of the thick wooden door, "Cash is on his own in there."

...

...

_Southern California, Benny's Camp, North Wall_

_11:55 am, April 5, 2284_

_Manny Vargas_

Boone was always the sniper, I usually just spotted.

In the last two years I served in the NCR with Craig, I became more accustomed to a Marksman Carbine than I did a sniper rifle. A Marksman Carbine and a pair of binoculars, that was my loadout. Then, I'd refined my skill by being the daytime sniper in the dinosaur at Novac, and I'm glad I had. It was difficult to land any hits from this distance, and it would've been impossible had I not taken that assignment.

Here, in Cash's attempt to rescue Boone, I was the lead sniper. The NCR had approached me the second they landed here, and within a few minutes I was in charge of the sharpshooters. There were ten: four with me, three over where Cash had been, and three on the other half of the north wall, on the other side of the trail. The common infantry had done a good job so far of taking out half the opposition, without too many losses. We were pinned down right now by a team of guys with missile launchers and a seemingly endless supply of missiles.

I took aim on a minigunner, spraying his brains onto the side of a barracks. Sliding the bolt back, I loaded another round in, and set about picking off more headshots. After four more victims fell prey to my precision, I slapped in a fresh magazine, my last, and picked my shots more carefully, searching for the men manning the missile launchers. I found one, over by where cash had hidden, behind an old car. I removed the crown of his skull with a well placed round, and bolted in another.

_Johnny had went into that tower..._

Curiously, I took aim on the tower, about five hundred yards out. My scope was powerful, but not enough to make a clear distinction. It looked like two blurred shapes were...fighting. They moved away and toward one another through the narrow window, as two combatants would do. I pulled my eye from the scope, and grabbed the more powerful Spotter's scope from the ground beside me, and resumed watching.

It was Johnny, for sure. And it looked like the guy he was now elbowing in the mouth...well, that looked like the man in the checkered coat from so long ago. But that couldn't be right, Johnny killed him at the Fort.

"Vargas!" A voice rang out behind me.

I dropped the scope, and whirled around, drawing my sidearm.

Major Polatli, the man I remembered from Forlorn Hope, had his service rifle in hand, and was waving animatedly at me. "Fire on that pit! The Pit!"

I nodded, and propped my rifle back up.

_What's going on at this pit?_

I zoomed in, panning across the camp for the pit that was previously full of deathclaws. Eventually, I found it.

It was no longer full of deathclaws.

In fact, the mutated, ten foot tall reptilian predators had made their way out towards the walls, running from three guys with thermic lances, who were prodding them away from the raiders below.

_We'll be torn apart by them,_ I thought, suppressing a shudder, _There must be a dozen in there..._

I fired round after round at the deathclaws that tried to escape, only killing one before my rifle was empty.

I slung it across my back, snatching the support machine gun off the ground beside me.

Without really knowing why, I shouted, "Cover me!" to the snipers beside me, and charged down the other side of the wall, straight towards the oncoming deathclaws.

_This is going to hurt._

...

...

_Southern California, Benny's Camp_

_12:03 pm, April 5, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

I slammed Benny against one of the support pillars, punching him twice in the face before he ducked, and my knuckles flattened on the concrete post.

He popped up on my left, landing a vicious straight right that buckled my legs and left them wobbly. He rushed forward, head down, and wrapped me up. He roared, lifting me over his head, and slammed me on the concrete. It took all I had to keep my head from bouncing on the floor, and I covered up, protecting my face from his barrage of punches. Even through my armor, his body shots hurt. Before we'd squared off, he'd put brass knuckles on his hands.

He tried to get the full mount, but I kicked his leg away, wrapping his arms up and rolling us over. I landed in side-guard, and elbowed him hard in the mouth. Benny spat blood in my face, and fired two rapid short punches that broke my nose, blood spurting out all over his chest and neck.

My concentration broke, and he threw me off. I staggered to my feet.

So far, I was getting my ass kicked, but just barely. I never fought anyone, other than Ulysses, who could match me hand to hand. And Benny moved a lot like Ulysses did, quick and accurate. In the five minutes or so that we'd been fighting, we'd torn the lookout tower apart. Broken chairs and desks littered the floor, blood was smeared on every wall, Boone had been knocked over and his chair lay on its side. It was complete pandemonium, though not quite on the scale Ulysses and I had been on, destroying the entire command area with each other's faces. "You're gonna die, kid." Benny spat, wiping blood off his chin, "And then I'm going to cut your heart out."

I ignored him, rushing in. He must've expected a takedown, but instead I leapt up, kicked off a pillar, and Superman-punched him square in the forehead, both of us slamming into one another and bouncing off the wall. The window was a few feet from us, to my left, and an idea formed in my mind... Though I doubted it would work, Benny was far too talented of a fighter to fall for it.

I pushed him off, and he assumed a kickboxing stance. I put my hands out in front of me, rear hand balled into a fist, the lead hand open, as I'd been instructed by Caesar's Frumentarii. Benny stepped in, snapping a leg kick that thudded painfully against my shin, and followed up with a one-two, which I evaded with the old bob-and-weave technique. Once his arm was fully extended, I fired a short right that connected with his chin, staggering him backwards.

Towards the window.

I spun, roundhouse kicking him in the face. He was hurt now, though still dangerous. I tackled him, throwing him to the ground. I punched at his face with savage accuracy, connecting twice but missing the third, as he bucked me off. I skidded and landed next to my sword. I looked at it, then at him, and kicked it out of the fight.

It was then that I noticed he'd picked up the Cowboy Repeater.

"Noble, but dumb."

I bailed, heading straight for the pillar where Maria lay, hoping that Benny had put more than the three rounds I'd seen him fire in it. Benny was chasing me with three-fifty-seven rounds across the length of the room, each shot within an inch of its target. It was only the fact that he was shooting frenzied, not taking time to aim, that he didn't actually hit me. Benny racked another round in, barely missing my head with the last one, and clipped me in the shoulder, my armor deflecting it. The shot still hurt like a son of a bitch.

_He fired six shots, one left._

I fell on Maria, and then bolted upright, protected by the pillar. I ejected the magazine, and saw that it was empty. I slammed it back in, furious. I pulled the slide back, and was at least relieved to see that the pistol had one round left in it.

"Come out and drop the gun," Benny called, "And I won't shoot Boob here in the face."

I snorted, insulted that he'd think I was so stupid.

"I've got a gun, Benny. It's got a round in the chamber. You won't shoot him, because then I'll shoot you. You're an idiot."

Benny didn't respond right away. "I'll throw mine out the window, if you throw the bullet out the window, and the clip. No wait, not the clip, it's custom. Just the bullet."

_He's in love with this damn gun..._

"Alright, I'll do it," I called, a plan in mind, "I'm stepping out, I'll blow your head off if you try to fuck me on this."

I peered around the corner. Benny had the repeater in one hand, ready to take aim and fire, but also ready to throw it. Thinking I couldn't see, I watched him loosen a boot knife in its sheath, and then slide it around to the back out of sight. I stuck my hands out, and pulled the slide on Maria, ejecting the shell. I stooped down, and picked it up, tossing it out the window. I set Maria down, slide locked back.

Benny laughed. "Moron. Come on, baby, did you really think I'd throw my gun out?"

He held the rifle loose in his hands, grinning.

"Do it, Benny," I dropped and picked Maria up, "Or I toss yours out there. You'll never find it, and you'll never be alive long enough to get a replacement."

Benny snorted, his face clearly trying to impress that he didn't care about some shiny pistol. But his eyes gave him away, and they told a story of a man who wanted nothing more than his old life back. And that pistol used to be his icon of power, along with his suit.

"Fine," he barked, tossing the rifle out the window, "Let's finish this."

I walked around the pillar, slowly closing the distance between the two of us. Ten feet...five feet... three feet. "Benny," I said with a smile, "It must suck, being out here with nothing."

Benny opened his mouth to respond, then closed it.

"When some courier from out of nowhere comes in, survives the mission your brother refused to take, kills you, kills your brother, and inherits your empire."

Benny glared at me.

"In fact, I've made out so well, I don't need this."

I threw Maria out the window. Benny's eyes followed it, longingly.

He turned back to me, and swung at my head, sloppy and inaccurate.

I popped him in the throat with an open palm, and dropped to a knee, striking him in the balls with an uppercut. I tugged the knife out of the sheath from his ankle, and stood upright so fast that I actually headbutted Benny in the face unintentionally. I grabbed him by the shoulder, and drove the knife so deep in his gut, that the knuckle of my index finger actually wound up _inside_ Benny's stomach. I stared into his face, watching the pain streak through his eyes. I pushed him to the edge, against the window, and pulled the knife out.

"You almost caused a war that would kill thousands of innocent people, Benny. You almost caused the deaths of everyone in Zion," I drove the knife in again, "You're no better than your fucking scumbag brother."

I pulled the knife out, and Benny slumped to the ground.

I glared at him, then strode over to Boone. I cut the gag off his mouth, and then cut his hands and feet free, helping him up.

He looked at me, his face as beaten as mine, "You're late."

I snorted, "You look like shit."

He shrugged, nodding. "What about him?"

I slowly turned back to Benny. "He's getting a Frumentarii's death. Like his brother should have."

Boone Grimaced, and made his way out the door, closing it behind him.

I knelt down by Benny, and pressed the knife against his eye socket, preparing to cut them out.

I stared at him, coughing and spitting.

_Just like Veronica had..._

Benny left Veronica to die, so I would to him. It was fair.

_No. You gave him that right once. He survived, and could have done anything with his life. Instead, he killed your friend, tried to kill Boone, and wiped out Happy Trails Caravan._

I drove the knife into his heart, staring into his eyes the whole time.

"I'm never going to forget this."

I could feel his heartbeat flutter through the blade, and fail.

I stepped away from him, leaving the knife in. I grabbed his arms and legs, and lifted him over the window's edge, and pushed him out.

"Ain't that a kick in the head."

...

...

_Southern California, Benny's Camp_

_12:15 pm, April 5, 2284_

_Manny Vargas_

I hip fired the machine gun until it was dry, then moved to my sidearm. Only a couple deathclaws remained, most brought down by my crazed "lone soldier" approach. Only about fifty or sixty raiders remained, valiantly holding off the NCR, who'd lost easily fifty men.

I dropped to a knee, scooping a hunting shotgun off the body of a raider, and began dumping fire onto the nearest deathclaw, who was bloodied and battered by NCR gunfire.

The beast turned, staring directly at me.

"Oh shit."

It charged, and I knew I couldn't show it fear. I darted towards it, landing two headshots, though they didn't pierce the skull.

The massive lizard backhanded me in the chest, and I felt my feet leave the ground.

I landed in a crumpled heap on my back, the air rushing from my lungs. I cast a glance in the direction of the two deathclaws, expecting to see them pounding after me, searching for a meal. Instead, they were both laying face down, bullets still striking their corpses.

I sighed, and looked towards the raider army, expecting to see someone taking aim on me. Instead, I saw something else. Something far more terrifying.

Johnny Cash was walking through the rear ranks of the remaining raiders, devoid of his helmet and armed only with his sword. With every stroke, two men fell. At least a dozen lay behind him, bleeding and lifeless. He danced like an artist, felling Super Mutant and human alike with effortless ease.

The raiders on the far edge, farthest from Cash, began to flee, only to be picked off by NCR sharpshooters.

Meanwhile, in the center, Johnny Cash cut down the bandits with such grace, it appeared as if he was flowing with angelic dexterity, as if he couldn't possibly be human.

_Now I know why they're afraid of the Man in Black._

_..._

_..._

_Johnny Cash_

"I'm glad you managed to straighten all this out, Cash."

I grunted, wiping at my eyes with a rag, "I'll never get back to Joshua in time. You'll have to march Securitrons in there and take him out."

House's face remained emotionless on the Pip-Boy screen. "Actually, no. Joshua Graham has returned to Zion, where I had a chat with him via Securitron. Apparently he's understood that this whole caravan scheme was a setup, and abandoned his army. The army, as it seems, was wiped out by the Legion soon after."

I shrugged, that was Joshua's burden, not mine. "I'll be back in New Vegas in three days, and then I'll give you a proper debriefing, and then I'm heading to Big Mountain. Me and my team will meet up at Mojave Outpost, unload our gear, then I'll hike it back to the Lucky 38, and teleport to my place. House, it'd be really nice if you had my car waiting for me at the outpost, I don't want to cross ten days worth of desert on foot, carrying several guns and five suits of armor."

House chuckled. "It'll be waiting."

,,,

,,,

_Mojave Outpost, Nevada_

_9:22 pm, April 5, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

I loaded the last item, the Gannon Tesla Armor, into the trunk on the back of my buggy, grateful that the NCR had returned my weapons from off the battlefield.

I sighed, and walked back over to my group. I stopped first at ED-E, taking a small chip from his data slide. "Thank you for filming the battle, and my fight with Benny. House is going to love that. You can go with me to the Lucky 38, I'll need you at Big Mountain."

ED-E beeped his approval.

I shook Manny Vargas's hand, "Thanks for covering my back, and for your little slice of heroism with the deathclaws."

He rolled his shoulder, "That'll take time to heal, but it was my pleasure. Actually," he turned and looked at Boone, and extended a hand. After a slight hesitation, Boone shook it. "I'm to escort you back to Shady Sands, _sir_, as I've reenlisted with First Recon, effective immediately."

I grinned, and shook Boone's hand. "Oh boy, that's going to be an awkward ride home," I locked eyes with Boone, who was forcing down a grin.

"Thanks for coming after me, Johnny. Benny would've killed me in a day or two."

I nodded, remembering the story Boone had told of Benny and Archimedes, and his plans. "I think we'd all be dead if I hadn't rolled in. Drinks are on you next time."

Bonne nodded, letting the grin crack his face.

I clapped Follows-Chalk on the shoulder, and gripped his forearm, as was custom in Zion. "You're coming with me, of course. I'll drive you to the Happy Trails Caravan, and you can make your way back with them. It's already been arranged."

Chalk nodded, nursing a flesh wound on his arm, which was wrapped.

I shook Arcade's hand next, nodding to him. "I'll keep your family's armor safe, as always. If you ever want to come to Big Mountain and take over a project, let me know."

He nodded, "I'll be in Freeside at the Fort for a while, maybe I'll see you on the Strip."

Next were Lily and Rex, who both had stern faces. "The NCR men had us fighting Radscorpions, while you went off and saved him."

I waved down her anger, "This was no place for you and Rex, Lily. You two and I have been through a whole hell of a lot, you know I wouldn't have left you behind unless I had to. And besides, we could've used you in the end. I'm sorry."

Both her and Rex softened, and Rex licked my hand. "Atta boy, Rex. You'll go with Arcade to the Fort, and from there you can go to Freeside and be with the King."

Rex barked.

Cass was glaring at me, clearly still mad I shut the door in her face. I pulled her into a hug, and she lost her pissed off look, chuckling. "Don't ever do that to me again."

I grinned at her, "Sure, maybe not. You heading back with Boone?"

She looked at Craig, then sighed. "Yeah, I've got to get to Shady Sands and get my Caravan back."

I nodded, then walked back over to my buggy. I retrieved a leather folder, and handed it to Cass. "There's the payment for helping me with Joshua."

She looked at the money, then nodded.

Last, but certainly not least, I turned to Veronica. She'd ended up being hit above the hip, in the right shoulder, and one went about a quarter inch into her abdomen. Arcade had stabilized her and she was eventually taken by NCR field medics, and was on her feet in a few hours of being under the Auto-Doc and a couple stimpacks. She still looked battered and beaten, but she was tough, and I knew she'd be alright.

I pulled her into a hug, and she buried her face in my armor. "I knew you'd be alright," I held her at arm's length and glared at her, "But don't ever make me choose between you and Boone again, that's not playing fair."

She grinned, and nodded.

I failed to mention that I'd almost shot her once that day.

I said final goodbyes to the group, and clambered into my dune buggy, Follows Chalk in the passenger seat and ED-E setting himself down on a mounting bracket specially designed for him. I keyed the ignition, more than ready to take off.

Craig came over to my side of the car, and extended a hand again. "Thanks, Johnny. The NCR would never have been able to track me. Benny would have been long gone with me by the time they got there. You ever need anything, _anything_, you can radio me. I'll be there." He reached into his jacket, and withdrew Maria, handing it to me with a thin smile.

I gratefully took the pistol, shook his hand, and donned my helmet. "I know, brother. But right now, I've got to get back to Big Mountain, let myself cut loose a bit."

Boone nodded, then clapped me on the shoulder, and strode off to the Outpost.


	7. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

_Big Mountain Crater, Combat Area_

_10:16 am, May 2, 2284_

_Johnny Cash_

Few things made me happier than hunting lobotomites.

In a large oddly shaped clearing, adorned with cheap buildings and outpost towers to simulate urban combat, six men had been recently released from the medical center in the Red Dome, previously Mobius's Lair, and were now holed up in a shack comprised halfway of a concrete ruin and half a lean-to of corrugated steel. I was impressed, considering that they'd started with twenty-four to begin with. Twenty foot electrical fences backed by solid concrete walls protected both Domes, the relay station, and a dozen smaller buildings, each linked by underground tunnels. The area outside these walled sections, was my true home. My hunting grounds.

The Lobotomites would usually be taken from NCR or Legion prisons, or from House's own jail, then dropped via Vertibird Crate into the Combat Area. From there, my Securitrons would lay their unconscious bodies in the center of the Red Dome, inside of which the main hangar area had been transformed into a gladiator arena. After fighting one another until they were down to a reasonable number, proving their solo combat skills, they were dropped into the expansive crater, forced to survive on what little supplies I occasionally scattered about the buildings. Between the three clusters of random buildings, my "Towns", open land (previously adorned by shithole bunkers, which had the resources removed and then were filled with concrete) provided me with perfect sniping space. The idea was to force these lobotomites to work together to kill me, and earn their freedom. Each man deserved to die for his horrific crimes, yet I offered a second chance. So far, none had made it.

But these six were doing pretty good. Two of them had Cowboy Repeaters and a few rounds each, one had a nine millimeter pistol. I'd picked off most with the Hunting Rifle Boone had given me right off the bat, as they left the crate in the center of the combat area. I was perched in a crevice between two boulders more than a dozen feet tall. The crosshairs of my scope sat nicely on the only rough cut window on the north side of the shack, where one of the ex-Legion kept poking his head out, trying to see where I was. I'd had my first shot miss, striking the door beside it. I hadn't taken the wind or humidity in check. Now, I'd elevated my sight, clicked it a bit to the right. The cool air would hold much water, slowing the bullet. The wind would push it away from its target.

But I'd done it right.

And what was even better, was that the Legionnaire had left the C4 he'd picked up right in view of the window. After I split his wig, I'd blow the building, and be done with it. Their names would go on a long list of men who'd died in the Big Empty, wishing for freedom.

The head reappeared in the window, peering through binoculars.

I exhaled slowly, the crosshairs elevated just a hair above the man's face-

The entire building erupted into a blinding fireball, sheets of glowing red metal soaring in all directions. I recoiled from the light amplified through my scope, ducking my head against the shockwave that struck my chest like someone had given me a good old fashioned playground shove. The echo of the blast carried across the crater, lost beyond the height of the mountain.

I looked back down at the scene, confused.

_They wouldn't have triggered the C4, and even if they had it would have been smaller than that. They only had a small amount..._

On my left wrist, where it always was, my Pip-Boy vibrated against my prototype stealth suit, my Phantom Armor. I impatiently slapped the touchscreen, furious I'd lost my kills.

Mr. House's face appeared, stern against a white background. He took a short drink from a champagne glass, then fumbled with something out of sight.

"Cash," he greeted me.

I removed my helmet, and scowled at him. "House."

"I see that your guest has arrived, if the look on your face is anything to go by. I'm sure you'll like him, he's quite as eccentric as you are."

I glared at the screen, "Who is this guest of mine? Did you let him inside the perimeter?"

House's face remained stone, "Yes, I did. He goes simply by Mr. Green, and has traveled all the way from the East Coast to speak with you. I would like you to do so."

"I'm on vacation, House."

House opened his mouth to retort, but a second voice interrupted him.

"This is where you vacation?"

I drew A Light Shining in Darkness from my thigh, lining the sights at head level. The smooth cut groove along the pistol's spine came to bear on the face of a man, a white man at least a decade older than me. He had short, well groomed orange hair and a light beard to match. His face was handsome, fair.

I gripped the forty-five tighter. "Who the hell are you?"

He eased his hands up, his gambler's suit fitting him well, and spoke in an accent I recognized as old Irish. "Didn't the old man say? My name's Mr. Green."

I stood abruptly, dropping off the rock formation and striding over to him, gun poised. He leaned against the support of one of the power and fuel conduits that ran all over the crater, his face casual and relaxed. As I got closer, I noticed that his eyes were grey, cold, calculating.

"Better start talking, Mr. Green," I threatened, "Because I'm not sure I like you."

He raised his eyebrows. "Not very friendly, are you? Well, I can understand. Your boss has let me into your sanctuary, and now I'm here being intrusive. And," he held up a hand," I'm sure you'd like to know why I blew up your little pets."

I kept A Light Shining in Darkness leveled with his chest, but loosened my grip slightly. "Start talking."

He nodded. "First, that's some badass armor you've got there. Chinese Stealth Armor? No, it's some variant."

"Get on with it."

"Well," he sighed, "I'm not sure how to begin, so I'll start by saying that I need your help. I'm from the East Coast, a long way from here, in the Capitol Wasteland. Essentially, I'm your predecessor. The original Wasteland hero. After I went through hell and back of my own, I settled down, started a sort of government. I united a series of small towns and now, after seven years, we're in need of someone to give us a professional opinion on the stability of our defenses. You see, I learned of the Legion first. They're massive, powerful, and completely chem free. I can't say that's a bad thing. Then word reaches my ears of a Republic, the NCR. As close to the Old America as we'll likely ever see, what a dream that'd be. And before I made any decisions, I hear about you and House," He motioned to his pocket where a pack of rolled cigarettes were, and I nodded. He offered me one, but I shook my head. Lighting and taking a hit, he sighed, blowing smoke into the air, "See, there's a faction that has arisen in the Capitol Wasteland, one that threatens my establishment. The land between my home and Texas, Nevada, and California, a place known only as No Man's Land, is inhospitable. Scattered and disorganized raiders inhabit what few areas can even be called livable, and the mutated creatures and ghouls are impossible to tame. It will be years, at least thirty, before any government can even _think_ about settling there.

"I need protection, more or less, from the horrors that separate the East from the West. I would like you to show me that allying with Mr. House is in my best interests, as I've all but decided that I wish to sign a deal with him instead of the other two."

I lowered the pistol, knowing that if House had heard any falsehoods he would have buzzed my Pip-Boy.

_An entire colony! On the East Coast! House and I would be one step closer to dominating the entire continent._

I made up my mind in an instant. "Alright, Mr. Green, I'll go with you to the East. But first, have you consulted with the Legion or the NCR?"

He shrugged, "Sort of. I talked to a man named Pius a while ago, maybe a year or so, and before that a man named Boone, from the NCR."

I nodded. "Craig Boone is my brother, yes I know him. And I know Pius, he's a top agent for Caesar."

Green nodded. "Well, so you know what kind of impressions I got of the other two factions."

Boone would have been honest, or his version of it, and I was surprised he hadn't sold the NCR to Green as he had several other small colonies. As for Pius, he was as gifted in speech as I was, and I was also startled that Green wasn't wearing the Mark of Caesar right now. "Honest ones, I must admit. What makes you choose House?"

"I haven't," he said with a serious face, "I want you to now give me your sales pitch. Unlike the other two, I am leaning slightly in your favor already, so I'd like you to come back to the Capitol with me."

I held up a hand, then tapped the side of my helmet. House's voice came into my earpiece. "I would suggest you go, Cash. I talked with him briefly beforehand, and might have won us this deal. We need this leverage against the NCR and the Legion."

I removed my helmet, and tucked it under my arm. "Alright," I said, "I'll go. Can we leave tomorrow morning?"

He extended a hand, which I shook, "I believe we can. Hell, I'll leave right now if you want."

I allowed a grin, but shook my head. "I've got some calls to make, weapons to pack, and a car to get ready. We'd have to stop at the Strip first."

He nodded. "I saw the Strip once in the distance when I contacted House, via his robots, but never got the chance to see it up close."

I motioned for us to return to the Blue Dome, then to the Sink. "You'll see it, alright. I just hope this damn fool crusade of yours doesn't mean it's the _last_ time we see it."

He didn't respond, something that slightly alarmed me.

_Whatever he's got going on,_ I thought, _It's worth checking in to. To own a series of towns on the East Coast would do us wonders. We might even rebuild from there. Either way, I'm keeping my guard up. I'm still not sure I like this Green guy, but he does seem a bit like me. Only time will tell, I suppose._

_..._

_..._

_Thanks for reading my Fallout FanFic. I've got other work up, please read that as well! I'm currently debating a sequel trilogy to follow up on these events. Review or PM me with your opinion. Again, thanks for reading!_


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